Darrah (pronounced DAIR-uh, /dɛərə/) unfolds like a moonlit poem at the edge of an ancient forest: a name born of the Gaelic darach, “oak tree,” yet drifting softly over still waters like a single sakura petal caught in a spring breeze. In its syllables lie both the enduring strength of gnarled bark and the quiet grace of cherry blossoms at dawn, weaving Celtic earthiness with a contemplative Japanese sensibility. To speak Darrah is to summon images of bamboo groves echoing in mist, where roots brace against time even as pale blossoms scatter like whispered blessings. It carries an undercurrent of wisdom—echoes of Hebrew Dara’s “nugget of insight”—tempered by the gentle coolness of an autumn moon, offering a name that feels at once timeless, resilient, and serenely beautiful.