Thomas Moore - Near DuPont Circle

A couple of weeks ago, I had a meeting with a scientist and others at the Irish Embassy near DuPont Circle, followed by a luncheon reception and presentation about an upcoming conference to be held in Dublin in

2234 Massachusetts Avenue NW

2012. I hadn't been in a foreign embassy before, having been only to the U.S. embassies in Gaborone, Botswana and Beijing, China, and outside the gate of the one in Buenos Aires, Argentina. When exiting the Metro station, the words of a famous American poet are inscribed on the facing of the inside facade above the escalator - Thus in silence in dreams' projections, Returning, resuming, I thread my way through the hospitals; The hurt and wounded I pacify with soothing hand, I sit by the restless all the dark night - some are so young; Some suffer so much - I recall the experience sweet and sad,... The officials at the Embassy were very hospitable and all had accents that seemed custom-made to recite centuries of older and well written poetry. I don't know any Gaelic, but with the wonders of an on-line translation program, Béarla go Gaeilge. (Aistriúchán seo a leanas.)

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Mr. Lincoln rose

'Tis an ardaigh an tsamhraidh seo caite

A rose admirer

Ligean faoi bhláth ina n-aonar;
Gach compánach a álainn
An bhfuil faded agus imithe;
Uimh bláth dá cuid den tsamhail chéanna,
Níl aon bláth ardaigh beag nigh,
Mar léiriú ar ais di blushes,
Osna a thabhairt don osna.

One of two arbor gates

Ní beidh mé saoire dhuit, co aonair amháin!
Chun péine ar an gas;
Ó tharla go bhfuil an álainn codlata,
Téigh, codladh tusa leo.
Dá bhrí sin kindly scaip mé,
Thy duilleoga o'er an leaba,
I gcás ina mates dot an ghairdín
Lie scentless agus marbh.

Cecile Brunner climbing rose

Mar sin, d'fhéadfadh go luath mé a leanúint,
Nuair a cairdis lobhadh,
Ón ciorcal shining Grá ar
An gems titim amach.
Nuair a bheidh gcroíthe fíor triomaithe 
Agus na cinn Fond a chrochtar,
Oh! bheadh ​​inhabit a,
Seo ar fud an domhain gruama ina n-aonar? 

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Thomas Moore (28 May 1779 – 25 February 1852) was an Irish poet, singer, songwriter, and entertainer best remembered for the lyrics of The Minstrel Boy and The Last Rose of Summer. He and John Murray were responsible for burning the memoirs of Lord Byron's after his death. In his lifetime, he was often referred to as Anacreon Moore.

'Tis the last rose of summer

Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
No rosebud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
To give sigh for sigh.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!
To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter,
Thy leaves o'er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
From Love's shining circle
The gems drop away.
When true hearts lie withered
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit,
This bleak world alone?