I gaze upon you, Turoe Stone, looking for a sign
To tell of your significance in nature’s grand design,
Your bearing is so solemn, so mystical, so eerie
I gaze in awe upon you, and wonder if you are hearing.
The wisest man can only guess at what or who you are,
Your age and birth are mysteries; Are you older than the stars?
Are you from that great explosion that created all the world?
Oh! That we could decipher those hieroglyphic curls.
Did your granite heart know love and war, know pleasure and know pain?
Know anger, lust and happiness, know sadness and despair?
You stand in passive solitude, while I ask you to reveal,
If those wrinkles on your skin conceal a hidden cryptic tale!
Will you tell us of the times before history began?
Tell us what strange people walked this very land?
Of the pagan rites of Druids? Of the times before we came?
We want to know, but should we know? Should we not ask again?
So keep your secret, Turoe Stone, and keep your tale untold,
Your massive presence in this place is a wonder to behold,
Your noble stance reminds us that we should forget never,
That men may come and men may go, but you go on for ever.