Ar bhaschrann an dorais
Ach mhuch mé an corraí
Ionam a d’éirigh,
Mar smaoinigh mé ar an lá
Nuair a bheas an bhaschrann glan,
Agus an lámh bheag
Ar iarraidh.
There was jam
On the doorhandle
But I suppressed the anger
That arose in me,
Because I thought of the day
when the doorhandle would be clean
And the little hand
Gone.
Séamus Ó Néill