From: “Hugh J. Curran” <Hugh_J_Curran@umit.maine.edu>

Poem (slighty amended) from about 1200 years ago & attributed to Fionn (Finn) McCumhal.

Song of Bealtaine

(Mayday)

(Dia ceadamhan la buidh

bealtaine)

May day,

delightful the time,

wonderful the colors

of the season as

birds sing

to a world come alive

with cuckoos

& wood frogs echoing

their refrain

in wonder & harmony.

Such great welcome

is this noble season

of spring renewing

itself in warmth,

swallowing frigid times

as birds begin to skim

above meadow canopies

& wild stags, soft does

seek solace

by the streams.

Heathery hills

of purple evergreen

& budding maple trees

spread out their hair

above the bright flowers

of bog & heath,

awakening

cold weather minds

to the joy of weeping

willows,

their efflorescence

a glad tidings

reflecting the encirclment

of heaven & earth,

of planets & stars,

that will us from unbelief

to a renewal

in lulling waves of warmth

ebbing & flowing,

so like meadows

flowering in a yearning

to cover the earth

during this bealtaine

season of May.

(Finn McCumhal: Celtic Poem to Mayday)