Every Night I Send You Flowers by Gabriel Rosenstock - HTML preview

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XVII

tá ár mbád ullamh

bád an fholúis

ní mór dúinn imeacht anois

 cén mhoill a bheadh orainn

 féach, tá an ghealach réidh

our boat is ready

the boat of emptiness

we must go now

 why wait, beloved

 see, the moon awaits us