(dor-nah nokt)
by Nick Gisburne
The dangerous enchantments of the Fey
Within their darkest catacombs were locked
But then a spiteful spirit stole away
The foul, forbidden book of Dána Nocht
The fairy king sent goblin scouts to hunt
And anxiously awaited their return
The spirit, soon besieged on every front
Disguised the book with roots and leaves and fern
The king, without his magic, died, alone
No seekers found the secret, though they tried
By moonlight you can hear the spirit moan
Corrupted by the wickedness inside
The pages, frail and faded, warped and worn
Are filled with scary, hairy, fairy porn
The Irish words Dána Nocht can be read as ‘dor-nah nokt’, but you’ll need someone more fluent than I to tell you exactly how to pronounce them.
To find a translation of Dána Nocht from the Irish, first read the poem, then click here.
You’ll be glad you did.
