So, I chose to "translate" a verse from this Irish poem by Nualla Ni Dhomhnaill called "As For the Quince" which I found here: http://www.poetryinternationalweb.net/pi/site/poem/item/8175.
Of course, the "translitic" is a faux translation, driven by the way the language looks and how one imagines it might sound if the words were English. The result always makes an odd sort of surrealist sense. It has nothing to do with how the poem might actually be translated, but every once in a while, there's a hint of the poem's spirit in the translitic.
Do tháinig bean an leasa
le Black & Decker,
do ghearr sí anuas mo chrann.
D’fhanas im óinseach ag féachaint uirthi
faid a bhearraigh sí na brainsí
ceann ar cheann.
Do things, be and lean in
with a Black & Decker.
Do green, yes, and more chiaroscuro.
Diana, I'm in search of faint chants, earth,
fate, a being-hood, not brains, yes, but
can or could.