I wish, O Son of the living God,
old eternal King,
a hidden hut in the wilderness
that it may be my dwelling,
A bright blue narrow stream
to be beside it,
a clear pool for washing sins away
through the grace of the Holy Spirit.
A beautiful forest near by,
around it on every side,
for nourishment of many-voiced birds
as shelter to hide them.
Facing south for warmth,
a little stream across its land,
choice ground with many benefits
that would be good for every plant.
A few sensible men
(we shall make known their number),
humble and obedient
to pray to the King:
Four threes, three fours
suitable for every need;
two sixes in the church
both north and south;
Six couples besides,
as well as me myself,
praying perpetually
to the King who makes the sun shine.
A lovely church decked with linen,
a house for God of Heaven,
bright lights afterwards
above pure white Scriptures.
One house to visit
for tending the body,
without ribaldry, without boasting,
without contemplating evil.
This is the housekeeping I would get,
I would choose without hiding it:
real fragrant leeks, hens,
speckled salmon, bees-
Enough clothing and food for me
from the king of good renown,
my being sitting awhile,
praying God everywhere.
Anonymous, Dúthracar, a Maic Dé bí, c. 800/900 AD, translated by Ruth P.M. Lehmann, in Early Irish Verse.
Thicket & Thorp 