(Műfordítás)

Piros vérét rózsán látom,
Szeme a csillagokban lángra gyúl,
Ő ragyog az örök hóhatáron,
S könnye az égből hull.

Arcát látom, hol virág van,
Mennydörgés és madárdal hallatszik,
- Az ő hangja! És vésett sziklákban
Írott szavát őrzik.

Övé minden fáradt ösvény,
Szíve dobban a tengert kavarva,
Koronája ott van minden tüskén,
S keresztje minden fa.

Joseph Mary Plunkett: I See His Blood upon the Rose

I see his blood upon the rose
And in the stars the glory of his eyes,
His body gleams amid eternal snows,
His tears fall from the skies.

I see his face in every flower;
The thunder and the singing of the birds
Are but his voice -- and carven by his power
Rocks are his written words.

All pathways by his feet are worn,
His strong heart stirs the ever-beating sea,
His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn,
His cross is every tree.