The Song of Wandering Aengus
I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lads and hilly lands.
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
La cançó de l’Aengus errant
Eixí al bosc d’avellaners,
car al cap un foc se m’inflamà,
i tallí i pelí una vara d’avellaner,
i una baia al fil enganxí;
i quan les arnes blanques volaren
i les estrelles com arnes llambrejaren
la baia al rierol llancí
i una petita i platejada truita atrapí
Quan l’haguí deixat al terra
aní a abrandar el foc,
mes quelcom mussità des del sòl,
i algú em cridà per lo meu nom:
s’hagué convertit en una noia resplendent
amb flors de pomer en els seus cabells
que em cridà per lo meu nom i corregué
i s’esvaí entre l’aire clarejant.
Encara que estic vell de vagar
per fondalades i muntanyoses terres,
descobriré a on ha anat
i besaré els seus llavis i prendré les seves mans
i caminaré entre l’alta herba clapada
i colliré fins a la fi dels temps
les platejades pomes de la lluna
i les daurades pomes del sol.
The Song of Wandering Aengus
I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lads and hilly lands.
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
La cançó de l’Aengus errant
Eixí al bosc d’avellaners,
car al cap un foc se m’inflamà,
i tallí i pelí una vara d’avellaner,
i una baia al fil enganxí;
i quan les arnes blanques volaren
i les estrelles com arnes llambrejaren
la baia al rierol llancí
i una petita i platejada truita atrapí
Quan l’haguí deixat al terra
aní a abrandar el foc,
mes quelcom mussità des del sòl,
i algú em cridà per lo meu nom:
s’hagué convertit en una noia resplendent
amb flors de pomer en els seus cabells
que em cridà per lo meu nom i corregué
i s’esvaí entre l’aire clarejant.
Encara que estic vell de vagar
per fondalades i muntanyoses terres,
descobriré a on ha anat
i besaré els seus llavis i prendré les seves mans
i caminaré entre l’alta herba clapada
i colliré fins a la fi dels temps
les platejades pomes de la lluna
i les daurades pomes del sol.