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Nature and Seasons

Raw and cold is icy spring, cold will arise in the wind; the ducks of the watery pool have raised a cry, passionately wailful is the harsh - shrieking crane which the wolves hear in the wilderness at the early rise of morning; birds awaken from meadows, many are the wild creatures from which they flee out of the wood, out of the green grass.

A good season is summer for the long journeys; quiet is the tall fine wood, which the whistle of the wind will not stir; eddies swirl in the stream; good is the warmth in the turf.

A good season for staying is autumn; there is work then for everyone before the very short days. Dappled faws from amongst the hinds, the red clumps of the bracken shelter them; stags run from the knolls at the belling of the deer-herd. Sweet acorns in the wide woods, corn-stalks around the cornfields over the expanse of the brown earth. There are thorn bushes and prickly brambles by the midst of the ruined court; the hard ground is covered with heavy fruit. Hazel-nuts of good crop fall from the huge old trees on dykes.

In the black season of deep winter a storm of waves is roused along the expanse of the world. Sad are the birds of every meadow plain, except the ravens the feed on crimson blood, at the clamour of harsh winter; rough, black,dark,smoky. Dogs are vicious in cracking bones; the ironpot is put on the fire after the dark black day.

11th Century, Irish.