Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry.
W.H. AudenMots clés poetry hurt ireland yeats auden
Americans may say they love our accents (I have been accused of sounding 'like Princess Di') but the more thoughtful ones resent and rather dislike us as a nation and people, as friends of mine have found out by being on the edge of conversations where Americans assumed no Englishmen were listening.
And it is the English, specifically, who are the targets of this. Few Americans have heard of Wales. All of them have heard of Ireland and many of them think they are Irish. Scotland gets a sort of free pass, especially since Braveheart re-established the Scots' anti-English credentials among the ignorant millions who get their history off the TV.
Mots clés history united-states international-relations irish television ireland scotland paranoia americans eavesdropping scots wales uk-us-relations britons accents anti-british-sentiment braveheart princess-diana united-kingdom
I still don't know why we didn't hire a car
to get around Ireland."
"When I was a kid, I always dreamed about living in Ireland. I used to pretend I was one of
the traveling people, driving my gypsy wagon from village to village. Used to picture a dark
gypsy kidnapping me and having his way with me. Exciting stuff." Katy grinned at her. "Could
still happen, you know."
"Katy, we have a horse that's so laid-back I have to keep checking to see if he's dead.
Mots clés humor ireland gypsy-wagon
THAT crazed girl improvising her music.
Her poetry, dancing upon the shore,
Her soul in division from itself
Climbing, falling She knew not where,
Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship,
Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare
A beautiful lofty thing, or a thing
Heroically lost, heroically found.
No matter what disaster occurred
She stood in desperate music wound,
Wound, wound, and she made in her triumph
Where the bales and the baskets lay
No common intelligible sound
But sang, 'O sea-starved, hungry sea
Mots clés wounds music lost sea ireland song girl stargirl found sound hungry beautiful-creatures
The heart of an Irishman is nothing but his imagination
George Bernard ShawMots clés imagination love empathy soul ireland
Bí ann nó as
táimse ag triall Ort
agus má tá
cuirim geasa Ort
mé a shábháil
ón dream
a deir
gur fear fuar
sa spéir Thú.
Mots clés poetry god faith irish ireland gaeilge a-dhé caitlín-maude
Cad é an mhaith dom eagla a bheith orm? Ní shaorfadh eagla duine ón mbás, dar ndóigh.
Peig SayersMots clés fear death irish ireland kerry bás eagla gaeilge peig-sayers
Treall
Tabhair dom casúr
nó tua
go mbrisfead is
go millfead
an teach seo,
go ndéanfad tairseach
den fhardoras
'gus urláir de na ballaí,
go dtiocfaidh scraith
agus díon agus
simléir anuas
le neart mo chuid
allais...
Sín chugam anois
na cláir is na tairnní
go dtógfad
an teach eile seo...
Ach, a Dhia, táim tuirseach!
Mots clés irish ireland gaeilge caitlín-maude treall
A ógánaigh...
ná bris
an ghloine ghlan
'tá eadrainn
(ní bhristear gloine
gan fuil is pian)
óir tá Neamh
nó Ifreann thall
'gus cén mhaith Neamh
mura mairfidh sé
go bráth?
ní Ifreann
go hIfreann
iar-Neimhe...
(Impí)
Mots clés love irish ireland gaeilge caitlín-maude grá impí
They'd listen silenty, with grave faces: but once they'd turn to each other they'd smile cruelly. He couldn't have it both ways. He'd put himself outside and outside they'd make him stay. Neither brutality nor complaining could force a way in.
John McGahernMots clés children ireland father daddy abuse john-mcgahern
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