Fionnghula, daughter of deep-dwelling Lir,
O fair-faced maid with shoulders white as seafoam,
your tale is one of sorrow, your life one of loss,
of tears and betrayal, of love that endures.
Great-hearted Fionnghula of the swan-children,
the wandering ones, bound ever together
with chains of bright silver, from river to river,
from season to season you made your way,
counting the passing years, holding on to hope,
awaiting the breaking of curse and bond.
I call to you, Fionnghula of the Danann;
I honor your suffering, I honor your story.