IF YOU COULD SEE HER AFTER DRINKING WINE . . . (poem) - Colm Breathnach - Ireland

Dá gCífeá í Tar Éis Fíon a dh’Ól . . .

(do Mhicheál agus Michelle)

Dá gcífeá í tar éis fíon a dh’ól, 
an cineál craorag sin ón tSile a mhiceo, 
í ag pramsáil romham tríd an gceantar gnó 
i lár na hoíche agus loinnir ina snó 
mar nár fhágamar an tábhairne ’dtína ceathrú chun a dó. 
Á, dá gcífeá í tar éis fíon a dh’ól. 
 
Dá gcífeá í tar éis fíon a dh’ól, 
cineál na Gearmáine ar a dtugaid Hoch, 
a lámha amhail éin bhána ag gabháil gach treo 
is a glór ag breith bua ar challán an tsló 
i gcaifé súgánach san ardtráthnón’. 
Ó, dá gcífeá í tar éis fíon a dh’ól. 
 
Dá gcífeá í tar éis fíon a dh’ól, 
sútha talún faoi uachtar agus Beaujolais Nouveau 
ag cóisir ghairdín i dtosach an fhómhair 
a rothar le hais an gheata is é ag brionglóid 
faoin mbóthar abhaile is an ghrian ag dul fó. 
Á, dá gcífeá í tar éis fíon a dh’ól. 
 
Dá gcífeá í tar éis fíon a dh’ól, 
bán ón nDomhan Úr, ó fhíonghoirt Chalafóirn’, 
i lár halla ag hapáil tríd an nGoirtín Eornan 
ina bróga gorma svaeide nua. 
Dá gcífeá í mar a chímse í tar éis fíon a dh’ól . . .

If You Could See Her After Drinking Wine . . .

(to Micheál agus Michelle)

If you could see her after drinking wine, 
Wine from Chile of the berry-red kind 
Prancing ahead of me in the middle of the night 
Through the business district with her face alight 
Having left the pub late and a little tight. 
Ah, if you could see her after drinking wine. 
 
If you could see her after drinking wine. 
Wine called Hoch from Germany’s Rhine 
Her hands like birds fluttering in flight 
In a sugawn café when the day is high 
Her voice louder than the crowd’s by just a mite. 
Oh, if you could see her after drinking wine. 
 
If you could see her after drinking wine, 
Beaujolais Nouveau, strawberries and cream 
At a garden party under autumn’s gleam 
Her bike by the gate lost in a dream 
Of the road home as the sun goes to sleep. 
Ah, if you could see her after drinking wine. 
 
If you could see her after drinking wine. 
Wine from California’s grape-fields fresh and new 
Hopping through the Stack-of-Barley a bit askew 
In her oh so new blue suede shoes. 
If you could see her, as I see her,  after drinking wine . . .