绿色，在波涛汹涌的大西洋巫师的怀抱里，一座古老的魔岛，一座忧郁的岛，被施了魔法，沉睡着;在那儿，在香农的河边，在月光下，幽灵般的艾琳坐着。一个苍老的苍凉，她坐在老香农的河边，是许多孩子的母亲，孩子们被放逐和死去，在她的家里，低着头，无家可归，她抱着膝盖坐着，哭泣，哭泣!在她的歌声中，仙草在泥土和手推车上颤抖;在她古老十字架的脚下，坟地的草在摇动，荨麻在摇摆;在幽幽的山谷里，草地的香迎着夜风，散发着她那神秘而哀伤的芬芳;圣井旁悲哀的绿薄荷，呼出忧郁的香膏。有时她抬起头，蓝眼睛无泪，透过夜色凝视着过去的事，凝视着未来的事。有时，当月亮给深海带来暴风雨，被唤醒的大西洋从它西边的洞穴里发出雷鸣，她脚边的猎狼犬跳出来，发出巨大的叫声，她身边的野竖琴奏出神秘的和弦，从诗人的心中奏出;她乘着暴风雨的翅膀飞翔，满头白发飘散，是凶兆的流星，是绝望的希望的幽灵，哀号，哀号! She keens, and the strings of her wild harp shiver On the gusts of night: O'er the four waters she keens--over Moyle she keens, O'er the Sea of Milith, and the Strait of Strongbow, And the Ocean of Columbus. And the Fianna hear, and the ghosts of her cloudy hovering heroes; And the swan, Fianoula, wails o'er the waters of Inisfail, Chanting her song of destiny, The rune of weaving Fates. And the nations hear in the void and quaking time of night, Sad unto dawning, dirges, Solemn dirges, And snatches of bardic song; Their souls quake in the void and quaking time of night, And they dream of the weird of kings, And tyrannies moulting, sick, In the dreadful wind of change. Wail no more, lonely one, mother of exiles, wail no more, Banshee of the world--no more! The sorrows are the world's, though art no more alone; Thy wrongs, the world's.