The Scribe

Dom-fharcaí fidbaide fál

Fom-chain loíd luin, lúad nád cél;

Húas mo lebrán ind línech

Fom-chain trírech inna n-én.

Fom-chain coí menn, medair mass,

Hi mbrot glass de dindgnaib doss

Debrath! Nom-Choimmdiu coíma,

Caín-scríbaimm fo roída ross.


A hedge of trees surrounds me:

A blackbird sings to me

Above my lined booklet

The birds chant their songs to me.

The cuckoo sings to me lovely and clear

In a grey cloak from the ramparts of bushes.

Well indeed does the Lord look after me

As I write with care in the woodland shade.

— Anonymous, 9th century