Croibhín, sweet ionúin,
my heart is yours.
I seek you in moonlight,
burning bright as a star.
Your innocence is blinding
and your wild soul secure;
come from your nest,
my little croibhín,
and knock on my door.
I’ll save you from hunger;
in my keep you’ll be warm.
I’ll clothe you, I’ll feed you
with wisdom and mirth.
Civilization won’t mar you,
safe in my hold;
nor will violence take you
as you struggle through dark –
a darkness in your eyes,
instinct of the plagued
that empowers, drains,
leeches and breaks.
I beseech you young ionúin:
set free these beasts
that so savagely tempt you;
they’re blooded, but weak.
Trust me, dear lioness,
and let rest your head.
In dreams, forget your burden.
I’ll fight in your stead.

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