Today I share with you a beautiful poem by Irish poet and philosopher John O'Donohue, "At the End of the Year", from his book "To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of blessings" (Convergent Books, 2008). The translation is by ChatGPT.

I hope it brings you a moment of presence, reflection and connection with yourself and the world.

I wish you happy holidays and a beautiful 2025!

At the end of the year


The particular mind of the ocean,
filling the longing of the shore
with such a brief harvest
of elegant and fleeting waves,
is like the mind of time,
opening to us forms of days.

As this year comes to an end,
we give thanks for the gifts brought by
and how they became embedded within us,
where neither time nor tide can touch them.

The days when the veil was lifted
and the soul could see the delight;
when a shudder caressed the heart
in the sheer joy of being here.

Surprises that awakened
in forgotten corners of old fields
where expectation seemed to have been extinguished.

The slow and reflective times,
when everything was uncomfortable
and the wave in the mind
pierced every wound with salt.

The dark days that stopped
the confidence of the dawn.

Days when beloved faces shone more
with a light beyond themselves;
and from the granite of some secret sorrow
a torrent of buried tears was released.

We bless this year for all that we learned,
for all that we loved and lost,
and for the silent way it brought us
closer to our invisible destiny.

Original version:

At The End Of The Year

The particular mind of the ocean
Filling the coastline's longing
With such brief harvest
Of elegant, vanishing waves
Is like the mind of time
Opening us shapes of days.

As this year draws to its end,
We give thanks for the gifts it brought
And how they became inlaid within
Where neither time nor tide can touch them.

The days when the veil lifted
And the soul could see delight;
When a quiver caressed the heart
In the sheer exuberance of being here.

Surprises that came awake
In forgotten corners of old fields
Where expectation seemed to have quenched.

The slow, brooding times
When all was awkward
And the wave in the mind
Pierced every sore with salt.

The darkened days that stopped
The confidence of the dawn.

Days when beloved faces shone brighter
With light from beyond themselves;
And from the granite of some secret sorrow
A stream of buried tears loosened.

We bless this year for all we learned,
For all we loved and lost
And for the quiet way it brought us
Nearer to our invisible destination.

John O'Donohue
"To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings."
(Convergent Books, 2008)