As Fragile as a Shell

This was a beautiful that was sent to me by my friend Emily. I hope it is read and enjoyed.


a translation of Nuala Ni Dhomhnaill by Derek Mahon called

"As Fragile as a Shell."

As fragile as a shell
cast up on a rocky shore,
I stand outside your door
in the afternoon. The bell
rings deep in the house,
echoing in the long, empty rooms.

The kitchen radio howls
rock music and, for a moment,
I feel a surge of hope; but then
I realize it is only there
to deter thieves
and a long wait lies before me
with no sound of your step.

I ring again, and the echo rises
among high ceilings, wooden stairs.
Peering through the letter-box
I recognize in the Georgian proportions
an intricate crystal-like structure
which bodies forth and hides a god.

A red rose stands in a vase
on the hall table; a sweater
hangs from the banister.
Unopened letters lie about
carelessly on the floor;
but nowhere is there a sign
of you to be seen.

On the drawing-room mantelpiece
a postcard from your lover
boasts that hers is the first
mail in your new house; it shows
a simple tourist view
of the tumulus at Newgrange.

There is a reference
--not lost on you, of course--
to the hieros gamos, the marriage
made in heaven. Outside
the warm conspiracy of your love
I stand, a nobody,
an orphan at the door.

An icy wind blows through the cold porches
of the farthest pavilions
in the depths of my soul;
the rivers of emotion are frozen solid,
my heart beats wildly
like strange and treacherous seas.

Damn my wooden head, my feather brain,
why am I waiting here
at your closed door?
When the bell peals inside
like the Angelus, do I really
expect the sky to open
and a dove
to descend upon me from above?

It is only in the soul
that the miracles take place
of love, forgiveness and grace;
it is only in dreams
that the sun and moon shine together
in a bright sky
while day dawns on them both.