From the recording To The Waters And The Wild
A later poem in which Yeats sees the lucht sí as meddlesome beings and wants them to leave us alone. Translation to Irish by Gabriel Rosenstock
Lyrics
O sweet everlasting Voices, be still;
Go to the guards of the heavenly fold
And bid them wander obeying your will,
Flame under flame, till Time be no more;
Have you not heard that our hearts are old,
That you call in birds, in wind on the hill,
In shaken boughs, in tide on the shore?
O sweet everlasting Voices, be still.
A ghuthanna binne síoraí bígí ciúin
Imigí chuig gardaí bhanrach Neimhe
Is tathantaigh orthu dul ag fánaíocht de réir bhur dtola
Lasair faoi lasair go dtí nach ann don am níos mó,
Nár chuala sibh gur chríon ár gcroí
Is go nglaoon sibh san éanlaith sa ghaoth ar an gcnoc
Sa ghéag creathánach sa taoide ar an trá
A ghuthanna binne síoraí ciúnas