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Irish language translations given on this voluntary community site cannot be guaranteed to be correct. Always ask for a second or third opinion, especially for requests for tattoos, wedding rings, etc.
Translation For A Tatto I'm Gonna Get
Moderator: Moderators - Módhnóirí
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September 03 2004, 5:12 AM
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I need to know how to say Only God Can Judge Me. Thanks to anyone who can help me out. 1 Luv
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September 03 2004, 5:14 AM
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September 03 2004, 5:16 AM
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Once, as a child, out in a field of sheep/Thomas Hardy pretended to be dead/And lay down flat among their dainty shins.
In that sniffed-at, bleated-into, grassy space/He experimented with infinity/His small cool brow was like an anvil waiting For sky to make it sing the prefect pitch/Of his dumb being, and that stir he caused/In the fleece-hustle was the original Of a ripple that would travel eighty years/Outward from there, to be the same ripple/Inside him at its last circumference. |
September 03 2004, 5:17 AM
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Sorry Ríobhca I was off checking how many posts down the list it was hehe
Once, as a child, out in a field of sheep/Thomas Hardy pretended to be dead/And lay down flat among their dainty shins.
In that sniffed-at, bleated-into, grassy space/He experimented with infinity/His small cool brow was like an anvil waiting For sky to make it sing the prefect pitch/Of his dumb being, and that stir he caused/In the fleece-hustle was the original Of a ripple that would travel eighty years/Outward from there, to be the same ripple/Inside him at its last circumference. |
September 03 2004, 5:20 AM
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That's all right, we all do this to one another quite often around here!! 
"Outta m'way, I'm gonna answer tha post"!!  |
September 03 2004, 5:27 AM
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You're right
It's better to be trampled for the sake of a good answer though - it proves we care Once, as a child, out in a field of sheep/Thomas Hardy pretended to be dead/And lay down flat among their dainty shins.
In that sniffed-at, bleated-into, grassy space/He experimented with infinity/His small cool brow was like an anvil waiting For sky to make it sing the prefect pitch/Of his dumb being, and that stir he caused/In the fleece-hustle was the original Of a ripple that would travel eighty years/Outward from there, to be the same ripple/Inside him at its last circumference. |
September 03 2004, 9:03 AM
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Ní féidir ach le Dia breithiúnas a dhéanamh orm
Only God can judge me and no, we can't shorten it Is é Christian Stoehr mo chroí
Dáta pósadh: 16 Deireadh Fómhair 2010 |
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