Dismal is this life,
to be without a soft bed;
a cold frosty dwelling
harshness of snowy wind.
Cold icy wind,
faint shadow of a feeble sun,
the shelter of a single tree
on top of the level moor.
Enduring the shower,
stepping along deer-paths,
traversing greenswards
on a morning of raw frost...
(Irish; author unknown; 12th Century; trans. Kenneth Hurlstone Jackson)
(to Contents)
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