For those cool ocean eyes...
 

Oileán is ea do chorp
i lár na mara móire.
Tá do ghéaga spréite ar bhraillín
gléigeal os farraige faoileán.

Toibreacha fíoruisce iad t'uisí
tá íochtar fola orthu is uachtar meala.
Thabharfaidís fuarán dom
i lár mo bheirfin
is deoch slánaithe
sa bhfiabhras.

Tá do dhá shúil
mar locha sléibhe
lá breá Lúnasa
nuair a bhíonn an spéir
ag glinniúint sna huisci.
Giolcaigh scuabacha iad t'fhabhraí
ag fás faoina gciumhais.

Is dá mbeadh agam báidín
chun teacht faoi do dhéin,
báidín fiondruine,
gan barrchleite amach uirthi
ná bunchleite isteach uirthi
ach aon chleite amháin
droimeann dearg
ag déanamh ceoil
dom fhéin ar bord,

thógfainn suas
na seola boga bána
bogóideacha; threabhfainnn
trí fharraigí arda
is thiocfainn chugat
mar a luíonn tú
uaigneach, iathghlas,
oileánach.

Island
trans., Michael Hartnett

Your forehead a spring well
mix of blood and honey -
it gave me a cooling drink
when I was burning
a healing drink
when I was feverish.

Your eyes
are mountain lakes
a lovely August day
when the sky
sparkles in the water.
Flowing reeds your eyelashes
growing at their margins

And if I had a boat
to go to you
a white bronze boat
not a feather out of place on it
but one feather
red feather with white back
making music
to myself on board

I'd put up
the soft white
billowing sails: I'd plough
through high seas
and I would come
where you lie
solitary, emerald,
insular.