Éire go brách!

My compass is lost.
My time is frozen.
My sight is close to nothing.
I'm withering, and I'm sinking.
Lower. Lower. And. Lower.

Smile.
Bee, be happy. I'll sing anyway.
Little bee, times might be, times might not.
So fly, fly away.
Little bee. Don't worry about me, don't wait for me.
Bee, be happy. I'll never leave you.
Smile.
During winter I die.

Little bee, don't sting me. Without you I could never blossom.
Little bee, a flower like me is made to be picked.
Little bee, I'm stuck in the ground whilst you have wings.
So be free. Freely free. 

---

I wouldn't know how to put it, because I don't know what exactly it is that I'm thinking of. But if I gave it a shot, it'd be something like; is maith liom tú, mo chara. Nothing more, nothing less. Still it's not enough, they're not the words I'm in need of. Not the words you should heed. I don't know how to put it, because I don't know what it is you're expecting.
Don't expect me, I'm a restless soul. Don't wait for me to stay, I always sway away alone, with the wind. 
I can't open my mouth to speak, I can't close my eyes to think.
 I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm only a flower.