I place my hope on the water
of the language, the way a body might put
an infant
in a basket of intertwined
iris leaves,
its underside proofed
with bitumen and pitch,
then set the whole thing down amidst
the sedge
and the bulrushes by the edge
of a river
only to have it borne hither and thither,
not knowing where it might end up;
in the lap, perhaps,
of some Pharaoh's daughter.
Núala Ní Dhomhnaill (born 1956) Ireland (born in England but moved to Ireland aged 6)
Translated by Paul Muldoon
Source: The Irish Page
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