In this place on my own,
The sea outside wraps this house of stone.
Winter hums a chilly whistling tune,
Brushing through the stacks of sand dunes.

No summer cheer, an empty beach afar,
A song of winter sings in stiffened air.
The milky clouds dance with darkened shadows,
Carrying the sound of the wind echoes.

A connemara sea view lies,
In a place near the western isles.