Játszó gyerekként táncoltok lábamnál, ti habok,
S bár csillogtok-ragyogtok, zúgtok önfeledten,
A régi, forróbb nyarakon vígabbak voltatok,
Mikor még kisfiú voltam s a szívem sebzetlen.
Nem hoz annyi heringet a dagály, mint egykoron,
Pedig hogy rítt a kordély, kosárral terhelten,
Sligoba menet, halat árulni a piacon,
Mikor még kisfiú voltam s a szívem sebzetlen.
S ti sem vagytok már oly szépek, sok kevély hajadon,
Mint rég, mikor az evező loccsant a tengeren,
S jöttetek este hálók közt kavicsos partokon,
Mikor még kisfiú voltam s a szívem sebzetlen.
The Meditation of the Old Fisherman
You waves, though you dance by my feet like children at play,
Though you glow and you glance, though you purr and you dart;
In the Junes that were warmer than these are, the waves were more gay,
When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart.
The herring are not in the tides as they were of old;
My sorrow! for many a creak gave the creel in the cart
That carried the take to Sligo town to be sold,
When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart.
And ah, you proud maiden, you are not so fair when his oar
Is heard on the water, as they were, the proud and apart,
Who paced in the eve by the nets on the pebbly shore,
When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart. | 
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