The Final Voyage of Mael Dúin

   
Lost men, ní foláir meld in the Otherworld    
where they can not grow old and die.    
A dead man, ní foláir wail in bloody wallow,    
screams of severed panpipe tongues.    
   
   
O avengers, we have lost our way, hunting the slayer    
of Mael Dúin’s athair, on the island of the druid’s eye.    
O tempest, oceanic walls willed by the bellows of God,    
cast sails beyond credence of the silver pillar mesh.    
   
   
Our ship, slips under veil of amorous Talamh of Mná,    
where somnolent souls succumb goddess moonshine.    
The suns, reap and gorge on the spoils of hunger fields    
and Mael Dúin is shadow stitched by the queen of Mná.    
   
   
O powerless, druid warriors, flee to your mother    
embrace the memories of mortality and time.    
O shadow, unweave the ball of thread from Mael Dúin’s    
hands and call upon the wind to usher your men home.    
   
   
Lost men, ní foláir meld in the Otherworld    
where they can live like mhuc masters and never die.    
A dead man, ní foláir wail in bloody wallow,    
screams of severed arms and queen’s thread floating free.    
   
   
   
   
   
   
ní foláir - must not    
athair - father    
Talamh of Mná - Land of Women    
mhuc - pig    
   
   
This poem was written for the "Legendary Underworld" comp.