My body seeks to make its way
to the house of judgement;
when the Son of God thinks it time,
let him come to claim his loan.
My arms when they are seen
are bony and thin;
dear was the craft they practised,
they would be around glorious kings . . .
I envy nothing that is old
except the Plain of Femhen;
though I have donned the thatch of age,
Femhen's crown is still yellow.
The Stone of the Kings in Femhen,
Rònàn's Fort in Breghon,
it is long since storms first reached them,
but their cheeks are not old and withered . . .
I have had my day with kings,
drinking mead and wine;
today I drink whey and water
among shrivelled old hags . . .
and the swift ebb;
what the flood brings you
the ebb carries from your hand . . .
Happy is the island of the great sea,
for the flood comes to it after the ebb;
as for me, I do not expect
flood after ebb to come to me.