Saturday Poem

A Matter of Some Regret

No, I’m not so depressed
As to stay
Under the duvet
All day
That would be an exaggeration

It’s just that
My eye
Gladdened at the sight of you,
Left behind
Last night

And this morning
There’s a taste of stout
And regret
In my mouth.

by Ailbhe Ní Ghearbhuigh
from Péacadh
publisher: Coiscéim, Dublin, 2008
translation: 2008, Gabriel Rosenstock