Chuireas do chasóg orm don gcéad uair ar maidin
A cheannaís dom’ lá breithe, i gceartlár an tsamhraidh.
Dearadh de chapaill bhuí is donna ar an olann
D’fhág siocáin Thrá Lí in éad lem’ chluthaireacht
Roghnaithe ag páirtí mo chroí le fiche geimhreadh,
Mo dhíon ar gach síon ar feadh na haimsire.
Ní cás a rá gur chaitheas do bhronntanas le mórtas,
A fhir na dea-mhéine, mo chumann is mo mhíle stór.
 
Cé gur ghlas é an lá, ní bhraithfinn aon phioc de
Dá mba sheacht measa í duibheacha na dúluachra,
Mar chnó choill i sliogán cosanta do sheirce
Is mé ná malartódh le Madonna an leathair
Ná le Lís na heirmíne a chaitheann an choróin
Agus a shuíonn ar ríchathaoir na Sacsan.
B’fhearr liom siúl led’ thaobh ar Chosán Bán Bhréanainn
Gléasta idir anam is chabhail i libhré an bhuíochais.
 

My first morning to wear that coat of yours,
Your birthday coat at the height of summer:
Yellow and tawny horses in designer wool
Caused uproar at all my comfort in Tralee –
A coat chosen by my soul’s companion
Of twenty years: a shelter in each storm.
I wear this great gift with pride. O kind-hearted,
O love. O carrier of treasure. Need I say more?

Bitter was the day, but I couldn’t feel the barb
Even if winds were seven times more venomous;
But my clothed self, a hazel nut you held firm.
All the grandeur of the world is nothing to this;
Ourselves alone walking Brandon’s White Path,
My body and its soul clothed in gratitude:
A life I’d not give away for Madonna’s leather
Or an ermined Elizabeth on her pampered stone