what is your favorite celtic poem?

Answer 1

I don't know a lot of Celtic poetry but here is one I like:

The Harp of Cnoc I'Chosgair
By Gofraidh Fion O Dalaigh. Irish Bard 1385

Harp of Cnoc I'Chosgair, you who bring sleep
to eyes long sleepless;
sweet subtle, plangent, glad, cooling grave.
Excellent instrument with smooth gentle curve,
trilling under red fingers,
musician that has charmed us,
red, lion-like of full melody.
You who lure the bird from the flock,
you who refresh the mind,
brown spotted one of sweet words,
ardent, wondrous, passionate.
You who heal every wounded warrior,
joy and allurement to women,
familiar guide over the dark blue water,
mystic sweet sounding music.
You who silence every instrument of music,
yourself a sweet plaintive instrument,
dweller among the Race of Conn,
instrument yellow-brown and firm.
The one darling of sages,
restless, smooth, sweet of tune,
crimson star above the Fairy Hills,
breast jewel of High Kings.
Sweet tender flowers, brown harp of Diarmaid,
shape not unloved by hosts, voice of cuckoos in May!
I have not heard music ever such as your frame makes
since the time of the Fairy People,
fair brown many coloured bough,
gentle, powerful, glorious.
Sound of the calm wave on the beach,
pure shadowing tree of pure music,
carousals are drunk in your company,
voice of the swan over shining streams.
Cry of the Fairy Women from the Fairy Hill of Ler,
no melody can match you,
every house is sweet stringed through your guidance,
you the pinnacle of harp music.

Answer 2

I'm not so much into Celtic poems, but I love the Irish blessing:

May the road rise to meet you,
may the wind be always be at your back
may the sun shine warm upon your face
may the rain fall softly on your fields,
and until we meet again, may G-d hold you in the palm of His hand

Answer 3

Smooring The Fire

I smoor the fire this night
As the Son of Mary would smoor it;
The compassing of God be on the fire,
The compassing of God on all the household.

Be God's compassing about ourselves,
Be God's compassing about us all,
Be God's compassing upon the flock,
Be God's compassing upon the hearth.

Who keeps watch this night?
Who but the Christ of the poor,
The bright and gentle Brigit of the kine,
The bright and gentle Mary of the ringlets.

Whole be house and herd,
Whole be son and daughter,
Whole be wife and man,
Whole be household all.

Answer 4

I and Pangur Ban my cat,
'Tis a like task we are at.
Hunting mice is his delight,
Hunting words I sit all night.

'Tis a merry thing to see
How glad at our tasks are we,
When at home we sit and find
Recreation to our mind.

'Gainst the wall he sets his eye,
Full and fierce and sharp and sly,
'Gainst the wall of knowledge I
All my little wisdom try.

So in peace or task we ply
Pangur Ban my cat, and I.
In our arts we find our bliss,
I have mine and he has his.

This was the first vernacular poem in a European language.