Treaspasóir By Colette Nic Aodha

tú imithe le seachtain
d’gháire fós mo thionlacan
ba mhian liom éalú

ó d’íomhá atá do mo leanúint
uair a eiríonn an ghrian
go luíonn sí arís

is níos deanaí fós
is mé ag glanadh suas
tar éis lá oibre

tú mar a bheadh néal carnach
ós mo chionn
tuigim go mbeidh sé amhlaidh

go dtiocfaidh tréigean do chomactais.

(In English)    Trespasser

gone a week,
your laugh is still my escort,
though I’d rather escape

your image, following me
from the moment the sun rises
till it lies down again

and later still
as I pick up
after a day’s work

you are like a grey cloud
collecting above me –
I know it will be thus –

until you betray our liaison.