Penelope

Now, I’ve waited long, and I’ve sought you longer,
With sad expression, hollow-eyed and poor.
I’m often heard keening at the cross-streets;
In a thousand guises, seen at every door,
Ah, for I know not just where to find ye.

So I’ll go and commandeer a three-master,
With twelve young sea-witches for my crew.
We’ll scavenge news of where you’re at or going,
And at every port, we’ll all cry out for you.
For alas, I know not where to find ye.

A thousand hawks I’ve called to guard your pathway
Through desert storms and blue glacial flow;
And when you trek at hours too dark for climbing,
At every bend you’ll see my candles glow.
Ah, but I know not just where to find ye.

In some strange land, perhaps you’ll find true love,
While I skirt maelstroms far out at sea;
But when, one day, you’ve come to see your darling,
God knows, she might have just sailed with me…
Ah, but I know not just where to find ye.

And that small boat in which you sailed abroad,
The same I borrowed, when Hallow’s Eve did fall.
I sailed through fog, until I found the cauldron-cave
That brings rebirth and hope to one and all.
Ah, but still I knew not where to find ye.

You came and sang this weary town enchanted,
When I’d been years within a sleep of pain.
Half-dead I was, walking through the market street,
Until your song awoke the spring again.
Now, if I but knew just where to find ye.

So I’ve heard the news of you, who stole my heart,
Ó Íasoin Óg, a bhuachaill chaoil mo chroí;
[Young Jason, young slender boy of my heart]
And before I’ll stay among these mad and drowning,
I will embark on my own odyssey;
Then perhaps, I’ll know just where to find ye.
Perhaps I’ll know just where to find ye.
I pray I’ll know just where to find ye.