The conscience-stricken spirit

This rescuee is from The Celtic Twilight by W B Yeats (p 9) and The History of the Town and the County of the Town of Galway (1820) by James Hardiman (p 65). It’s the first one to have a bit of a conversation going on.

The conscience-stricken spirit

The spirit standing in the doorway
had an infinite, heavy sadness to it
a weight of troubles from another world

Is you dead, I says

What thinks you, he replied
When I was living my enemies took power,
destroyed my castle, my kingdom
terrible misfortune of the land
what I feared more than anything else
came to pass
winds of damage turned families and visionaries
to peasants
interference with an opulent community
condition and control of customs
pleasure of music and poems a memory
a place whose masters have no heart
an earth whose heavens are foregoing

He seemed kind, strong

They are so distant from me, says he
neither day nor night
time nor words
make me feel that…

His voice began to fail

If you would talk to… if you would…

They see me as half-mad, I says, queer as a copper shilling
Talking to you, about you, is no wise things for me

So I has written this down
I is no mystical person
I is already damaged
lodging in this place
longing to trim my own winged mind

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