Garden of the Court

Translated from the original Irish (Gaelic) version, "Gairdín na Cúirte"

“It’s not exactly that we feel,” said the judge, 
“That the rose you’ve presented is rotten, though red, 
But rather we’ll refuse from this moment forth, 
Your offerings for our flower show and fair.”

“That’s quite alright,” I replied to judge and jury, 
“Because I noticed en route to receive my sentencing 
That the court’s own garden was in disarray; 
A field mixed with weeds, and the occasional beauty, 
Who could tell whether you’d taste hemlock or honey.

What better, with that, then to tend my own garden, 
With countless seeds beneath welcoming soil; 
Add water and wait, until the field is abloom, 
When soft care becomes colour, happy scents in the air.

And if the villagers come around, curious to see 
Why they forgot about that one-rose entry, 
They’ll encounter a courtier guarding his bloom, 
Now more learned than those, in that dusty courtroom.

---

The original Irish version, Gairdín na Cúirte, is available here.

Reviews

[Onlyme]

This is an interesting piece. Made me ponder, think and take on board this read. I guess the moral of the tale is not to judge someone on looks alone. But to give them a chance and see what happens. Like the rose. And the courtroom garden.