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Here the Irish beauty, Grainne sings, perhaps somewhat reproachfully, to her sleeping beloved, Diarmuid, with whom she eloped.

The stag in the east sleeps not;
He ceases not his bellow;
Even though he steps in the blackbirds grove,
Sleep is the last thing on his mind.

The hornless hind sleeps not,
But cries for her speckled fawn;
She speeds over the scrub
And sleeps not in her holt.

The melodious linnet sleeps not
In the tangled tree tops;
Great song make they in the wood,
Even the thrush sleeps not.

The well fed duck sleeps not,
But swims her circuit;
She neither stays nor stops,
And in her nest she sleeps not.

Tonight the curlew sleeps not
Over the wild tempest raging;
Sweet is the sound of his clear voice,
He sleeps not in the stream.
.. .. ..

Celtic Book of Days
-Caitlin Matthews-
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Posted in alt discuss faery**

by Oisin, May,2000

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