| Dá dtéinnse siar | If I were to travel west |
| Dá dtéinnse siar is aniar ní thiocfainn, Ar an gcnoc dob' áirde is air a sheasfainn, Is í an chraobh chumhra is túisce a bhainfinn, Is is é mo ghrádh féin is luaithe leanfainn. | If I were to travel to the west, I should not return, I would go and stand on the highest hill, I would soonest pick the sweet-scented branch, And it is my own love that I would soonest follow. |
| Tá mo chroí chomh dubh le háirne, Nó le gual dubh a dhóifí i gceartain, Le bonn bróige ar hallaíbh bána, Is tá lionndubh mór ós cionn mo gháire. | My heart is as black as a sloe, Or as black coal that would be burnt in a forge, Black as the sole of a shoe on white halls, And there is a great melancholy overshadowing my smile. |
| Tá mo chroí-se brúite briste, Mar leac oighir ar uachtar uisce, Mar bheadh cnuasach cnó tar éis a mbriste, Nó maighdean óg tar éis a pósta. | My heart is squashed and broken, Like a sheet of ice atop water, Like a bunch of nuts after being crushed, Or a young maiden after being wedded. |
| Tá mo ghrá-sa ar dhath na sméara, Is ar dhath na sú craobh lá breá gréine, Ar dhath na bhfraochóg de dhuibhe an tsleibhe, Is is minic bhí ceann dubh ar cholainn ghléighil. | My love is the colour of the blackberries, The colour of raspberries on a fine sunny day, The colour of the blackest mountain whortleberry, And the whitest body can often be black of hair. |
| Is mithid domh-sa an baile seo a fhágáil, Is géar an chloch 'gus is fuar an láib ann, Is ann a fuaras guth gan éadáil, Agus focal trom ó lucht an bhéadáin. | I am compelled to leave this place, Sharp is the stone here and cold the mud, Where I was given the blame without the gain, And the heavy word from the back-biters. |
| Fuagraim an grádh, is mairge do thug é, Do mhac na mná úd, ariamh nár thuig é, Mo chroí in mo lár gur fhág sé dubh é, 'S ní fheicim ar an tsráid ná in áit ar bith é. | I denounce love, woe is the person who gave it To the son of that woman who never ever understood it, That left my innermost heart blackened. I do not see him in the street, or anywhere. |
| Duanaire Gaeilge 1921 (Róis Ní Ógáin a chuir in eagar), lch.48. Litriú leasaithe le Marion Gunn. | Duanaire Gaeilge 1921. (Ed. Róis Ní Ógáin), p. 48. English translation by Marion Gunn. GAELIC-L LOG9003 |
| Beir Beannacht | Fare Well |
| Cruthaíonn ár n-ainm is ár seoltaí go bhfuilimid ann, nó in ann, nó in ainm is a bheith ann, agus go bhfuil duine eile áit éigin lasmuigh nach mbaineann leis an dream seo atá ag coiscéimíocht thar urlár cistine linn -- An dream sin a thionlacann gach céim, Gach casadh, agus gach ceann-fúinn. Is ionann an dream sin agus gach deis nár thapaigh muid chun laincisí an chuibhrinn seo a réabadh, is ionann iad agus an réabadh fhéin, agus a chroí dhil, is ionann an dream sin, ar aon choiscéim linn agus leimhe an éalaithe. Fan, mar a fhanann muid i gcónaí, ar fhaitíos go dtitfeadh an dea-scéal ar urlár tréigthe. | Our name and our address prove we exist, or are capable, or at least we are capable in name. It proves, too, that there is someone else out there who has no connection with this gang of ghosts walking across the kitchen floor with us. Those who accompany our every step, every turn, every slight dejection. They are all the opportunities of which we failed to take advantage to break this isolation, this entrapment; they are the break-out itself, and above all they are the let-down of escape. But wait, my dear, as we always wait just in case the good news. might fall on a deserted floor. |
| Rita Kelly, Attic Press 1990. | English translation by Marion Gunn GAELIC-L LOG9101 |
| Finit | Finit |
| Le seans a chuala uathu scéala an chleamhnais Is b'ait liom sriain le héadroime na gaoithe; Do bhís chomh hanamúil léi, chomh domheabhartha, Chomh fiáin léi, is chomh haonraic, mar ba chuimhin liom. | It was by chance I heard them talking about the new match
being made And I'd thought it strange to think of the wind's lightness chained; You were as spirited as the wind, as unpredictable, As wild as she is, as solitary, that is my memory of you. |
| Féach feasta go bhfuil dála cáich i ndán
duit, Cruatan is coitinne, séasúr go céile, Ag éalú i ndearúd le hiompú ráithe Gur dabht arbh ann duit riamh ná dod leithéidse. | See now, how your destiny is that of any commonplace person, Hard work and boredom from one season to another, To be forgotten in a matter of months So as to leave doubt as to whether you ever really existed. |
| Ach go mbeidh poirt anois ná cloisfead
choíche gan tú bheith os mo chomhair arís sa chúinne, Ag feitheamh, ceol ar láimh leat, roimh an rince, Is diamhaireacht na hoíche amuigh id shúile. | Except that there are tunes I shall never be able to listen
to Without having you a vision of you again before me in the corner, Waiting, music at hand, for the dance to take up, And all the devilry of the night outside in your eyes. |
| Foinse/Source: Máire Mhac an tSaoi, "Nuabhéarsaíocht" eag. Seán Ó Tuama (S.& Dill 1950) | English translation by Marion Gunn. GAELIC-L LOG9107 |
| Liodán Earraigh | Spring Litany |
| Is tú mo mhúscailt aiteasach ar maidin, Is tú an phaidir bheannaíos mo luí; Is tú mo chré, mo aspalóid, mo Fhlaitheas, Mo Cháisc a chinntíos dom mo aiséirí. | You are my joyful awakening in the morning, You are the prayer which blesses me as I lie down; You are my creed, my absolution, my Heaven, My Easter guarantee of resurrection. |
| Is tú an dúchtaint thobann ar an ngealaigh, Is tú an eagla bhuan ná codlannn néall; Is tú lá 'le Bríde ag leathadh dóirse an Earraigh, An anaithe mhilse fhágas m'anam faon. | You are the sudden darkening of the moon, You are the ever-present fear which knows no sleep; You are Brigid's day openig up the doors of spring, The sweet storm that leaves my soul exhausted. |
| Is tú an luisne sí ar óiche ar uisce Fómhair, Tú caoile crann fá loinnir deireadh laoi, Is tú mo bhaisteadh arís, mo aithghin óghachta, Mo choinneal adhartha lasta ós altóir naoimh. | You are the fairy light on the waters of autumn, The slimness of a ship's mast in the light at end of day You are my baptism again, my rebirth to purity, My candle of adoration burning before the saint's altar. |
| Ag sin mo liodáin duit, mo iomna mórtha, Mo chroí ina dheora á shilt ar lár fád chomhair. | There you have my litany, my hymn of praise, My heart's tears falling down for you. |
| Foinse/Source: Tomás Ó Floinn, "Nuabhéarsaíocht" eag. Seán Ó Tuama (S.& Dill 1950). | English translation by Marion Gunn. GAELIC-L LOG9107 |
| Suantraí | Lullaby |
| Seóthó, a thoil! ná goil go fóill. Do gheobhair gan dearúd taisce gach seoid do bhí ag do shinsear ríoga romhat In Éirinn iathghlais Choinn agus Eoghain. | Sho-ho, my love, and don't go crying You will get without fail the treasure store Your noble forebears held before you In the green-meadowed Ireland of Conn and of Eoin. |
Seóthó, a linbh, a chumainn 's a stór, Mo chúig chéad cumha go dubhach faoi bhrón Tú ag sileadh na súl 's do chom gan lón! |
Sho-ho, my child, my darling, my dear My five hundred woes in deepest sorrow You crying your eyes out on an empty stomach! |
| Do gheobhair ar dtúis an t-úll id' dhóid Do bhí ag an dtriúr i gclúid féd' chomhair, An staf bhí ag Pan -- ba ghreanta an tseoid -- Is an tslat bhí ag Maois ghníodh díon dó is treoir. | First you will get into your fist the apple That the three hid away just for you The staff of Pan -- a fine treasure And the rod of Moses that gave him shelter and guidance. |
Seóthó, a linbh, a chumainn 's a stór, Mo chúig chéad cumha go dubhach faoi bhrón Tú ag sileadh na súl 's do chom gan lón! |
Sho-ho, my child, my darling, my dear My five hundred woes in deepest sorrow You crying your eyes out on an empty stomach! |
| Do gheobhair ina bhfochair sin lomra an óir A thug Iason tréan don ghréig ar bord, Is an tréan-each cuthaigh mear cumasach óg Do bhí ag Coin Chulainn, ceann urraidh na sló. | As well as that you will get the fleece of gold Strong Jason brought from Greece aboard ship And the strong mettlesome, fiery young steed Of Cú Chulainn, leader of the big force. |
Seóthó, a linbh, a chumainn 's a stór, Mo chúig chéad cumha go dubhach faoi bhrón Tú ag sileadh na súl 's do chom gan lón! |
Sho-ho, my child, my darling, my dear My five hundred woes in deepest sorrow You crying your eyes out on an empty stomach! |
| Do gheobhair sleá Aicill ba chalma i ngleo, Is craoiseach Fhinn gan mhoill id dhóid Éide Chonaill dob ursa le treoin, Is sciath gheal Naoise ó Chraobh na sló. | You will get the spear of Achilles, brave in combat And the lance of Finn very soon into your grasp The robes worn by Conall, support to the strongest And the bright shield of Naoise, of the Branch of hosts. |
Seóthó, a linbh, a chumainn 's a stór, Mo chúig chéad cumha go dubhach faoi bhrón Tú ag sileadh na súl 's do chom gan lón! |
Sho-ho, my child, my darling, my dear My five hundred woes in deepest sorrow You crying your eyes out on an empty stomach! |
| Do gheobhair saill uaim, fíon is beoir, Is éadach greanta ba mhaise do threoin; Ach ó chím do bhuime chúm sa ród Ní gheallfad uaim duit duais níos mó. | I will give to you fat and wine and beer, And fine clothing fit for the greatest But now I see your nurse coming down the road I shall promise you no greater prize! |
Seóthó, a linbh, a chumainn 's a stór, Mo chúig chéad cumha go dubhach faoi bhrón Tú ag sileadh na súl 's do chom gan lón! |
Sho-ho, my child, my darling, my dear My five hundred woes in deepest sorrow You crying your eyes out on an empty stomach! |
| Eoghan Rua Ó Súilleabháin a deirtear a chum an leagan áirithe seo. | Above version said to have been written by Eoghan Rua Ó Súilleabháin. English translation by Marion Gunn. |
| An Phaidir Gheal | The Bright Prayer |
| Luímse le Dia, Go luí Dia liom! Scáth Dé os mo chionn, Crios na n-aingeal faoi mo chom, Cá lúifidh tú anocht? Idir Muire is a Mac, Idir Bríd is a brat, Idir Colm Cille is a sciath, Idir Dia is a lámh dheas. Cá n-éireoidh tú amárach? Éireoidh le Pádraig. Ce hiad ar ár n-aghaidh? Dhá chéad aingeal. Ce hiad ar ár ndiaidh? An oireadh seo eile de mhuintir Dé. Druid na dúin faoi Ifreann, Is oscail geata Fhlaithis De; Lig an tsoilse mhór amach, Is an t-anam trua isteach. " a Dhia, déan trócaire orainn! A Mhic na h"igh go bhfaighe ár n-anam! | I lie down with God, May God lie with me! Shadow of God over me, Girdle of the angels about my waist Where shall you lie down tonight? Between Mary and her Son, Between Brigid and her cloak, Between Colmcille and his shield, Between God and his own right hand. Where shall you arise in the morning? I shall rise up with Patrick. Who are these we see before us? Two hundred angels. Who are those we see behind us? As many more of the people of God. Shut the strongholds of Hell; And open the gates of God's Heaven; Let out the great light, Let in the pitiable soul. O, God, have mercy on us! May the Son of the Virgin receive our souls! |
| Traditional Irish bedtime prayer. As I can remember only part of it, I have taken the above version from "Duanaire Gaedhilge I" R. Ní Ógáin 1921 and updated the spelling. NOTE: The book has "cros na n-aingeal". I think that's a mistake, or a misprint. "Crios na n-aingeal" is what I remember. It makes a lot more sense, too! English translation by Marion Gunn. GAELIC-L LOG9108 |
| Dúlamán | Dúlamán |
Dúlamán Gaelach, Dúlamán na farraige, Ó 'sé is fearr in Éirinn! | |
| Is cosúil Bilí buach leis an dúlamán Gaelach, Sram ar a shúil is drúcht ar a fhéasoig.
Dúlamán Gaelach, Dúlamán na farraige, Ó 'sé is fearr in Éirinn! | Winning Billy is like the "dúlamán Gaelach", Sticky moisture in his eye and dew on his beard! |
| Tá m'iníon ag dul á pósadh ar an ógánach
Gaelach, Gan stocaí, gan bróga, gan aon rud lé(th)i.
Dúlamán Gaelach, Dúlamán na farraige, Ó 'sé is fearr in Éirinn! | My daughter's going to marry the ógánach Gaelach Without shoes, without stockings, bringing nothing with her! |
| Chuir mé scéala chuici go gceannóinn teach
mór di; Scéala a chuir sí agam go ndéanfadh bothóg uain í!
Dúlamán Gaelach, Dúlamán na farraige, Ó 'sé is fearr in Éirinn! | I sent word to tell her I'd buy her a big house; Her response -- that a hut to shelter a lamb would do! |
| Chuir mé scéala chuici go gceannóinn long
mhór di; Scéala a chuir sí agam go ndéanfadh báidín seoil í!
Dúlamán Gaelach, Dúlamán na farraige, Ó 'sé is fearr in Éirinn! | I sent word to tell her I'd buy her a great ship; Her response -- that a little sailboat would do! |
| Chuir mé scéala chuici go gceannóinn
"slipper shoes" di; Scéala a chuir sí agam go ndéanfadh "button boots" í!
Dúlamán Gaelach, Dúlamán na farraige, Ó 'sé is fearr in Éirinn! | I sent word to tell her I'd buy slipper shoes for her; Her response -- that button boots would do! |
| Chuir mé scéala chuici go gceannóinn leaba
ard di; Scéala a chuir sí agam nach luífeadh sí ar na clárachaí!
Dúlamán Gaelach, Dúlamán na farraige, Ó 'sé is fearr in Éirinn! | I sent word to tell her I'd buy her a high bed; Her response -- that she'd be happy to lie on bare boards! |
| Tá m'iníon ag dul á pósadh ar an ógánach
Gaelach, Sram ar a shúil is drúcht ar a fhéasóig!
Dúlamán Gaelach, Dúlamán na farraige, Ó 'sé is fearr in Éirinn! | My daughter's going to marry the "ógánach Gaelach" Sticky moisture in his eye and dew on his beard! |
| Foinse/Source: Albert Fry. Dúlamán is a kind of seaweed (pelvetia canaliculata). English translation of the verses by Marion Gunn. GAELIC-L LOG9109. Chorus left untranslated, for beginners to try their hand at that. |
| Suantraí | Lullaby |
| Chuirfinn mo leanbh a chodladh, Is ní mar chuirfeadh mná na mbodach; Súisín lín is braillín olla, Is cliabhán óir agus bean á bhogadh.
As do sheasamh do leas go ndéanair, Is nár bhean gan mac do mháthair. | I'd put my child to sleep, Not as the churls' (poss. bigwigs?) women do; With a linen coverlet and a wollen blanket, And a golden cradle and a woman to rock it.
May you find health in your sleep, May you find improvement in your rising up, And may your mother not be sonless. |
| Dá mbeadh agam is duit a bhéarfainn Baile poirt agus leath na hÉireann, "r an domhain uile go léireach, Is habháin-ó, a leainbhín ghléigil!
As do sheasamh do leas go ndéanair, Is nár bhean gan mac do mháthair. | If I had it in my power I would give you A seaport and the half of Ireland, All the gold in all the world over, And hawaween-o, my fairest child.
May you find health in your sleep, May you find improvement in your rising up, And may your mother not be sonless. |
| Foinse/Source: N. J. A.Williams "Cniogaide Cnagaide" (Clóchomhar 1988). English translation by Marion Gunn. GAELIC-L LOG9111 |
| Ómós do John Millington Synge | Tribute to John Millington Synge |
| An toisc a thug tú chun mo dhaoine Ón gcéin mhéith don charraig gharbh Ba chéile léi an chré bheo Is an leid a scéith as léan is danaid. | Whatever brought you to my people From that far-off place of abundance to the rough rock Was companion to the living clay And the inkling which came out of anguish and grief. |
| Níor éistís scéal na gcloch, Bhí éacht i scéal an teallaigh. Níor spéis leat leac ná cill, Ní thig éamh as an gcré mharbh. | You ignored the story of the stones, There was adventure on the hearth. You were not interested in the slabs or the burial places, Dead earth makes no moan. |
| Do dhuinigh Deirdre romhat sa ród Is curach Naoise do chas Ceann Gainimh, D'imigh Deirdre is Naoise leo Is chaith Peigín le Seáinín aithis. | Deirdre was embodied before you on the road And Naoise's boat came around Ceann Gainimh. Deirdre and Naoise vanished And Peggy and Johnny traded bitter insults. |
| An leabhar ba ghnáth id dhóid As ar chuiris bréithre ar marthain, Ghabh Deirdre, Naoise is Peigín cló Is thug léim ghaisce de na leathanaigh. | The book you usually had in your fist And out of which you set words a-living, Deirdre, Naoise and Peggy took shape there And took a hero's leap out of the pages. |
| Tá cleacht mo dhaoine ag meathadh, Ní cabhair feasta an tonn mar fhalla, Ach go dtagaidh Coill Chuain go hInis Meáin Beidh na bréithre chnuasaís tráth Ar marthain fós i dteanga eachtrainn. | The ways of my people are dying out The sea-wave can no longer give them protection, But until Coill Chuain comes to Inis Meáin The sayings which you collected then Will live on in a foreign language. |
| Foinse/Source: "Ó Mórna agus Dánta Eile", Ó Direáin (Cló Morainn 1957) | English translation by Marion Gunn. GAELIC-L LOG9112 |
| Na laetha geal m'óige | The bright days of my youth |
| (In ómós do mo m'athair agus do m'atair) | (A tribute to my father and my mother) |
| Ag amharc tré m'óige, Is mé bhí sámh, Gan eolas marbh Bhí mé óg san am. | Looking through my youth I was at peace Without dead knowledge I was young at the time. |
| Anois, táim buartha, 'S fad ar shiúl an lá Ochón 's ochón ó. | Now I am troubled. Long gone is is the day Alas, alas, oh. |
| Na laetha geal m'óige Bhí siad lán de dhóchas An bealach mór a bhi romhan anonn Bhí sé i ndán domh go mbeinn, slán, slán. | The bright days of my youth They were full of hope The high road over was ahead of me qqq |
| Anois, táim buartha 'S fad ar shiúl an lá. Ochón is ochón ó. | Now I am troubled Long gone is is the day Alas, alas, oh. |
| Na laetha geal m'óige Bhí siad lán de dhóchas An bealach mór a bhi romhan anonn Bhí sé i ndán domh go mbeinn, slán, slán. | The bright days of my youth They were full of hope The high road over was ahead of me xxxxxxx qqq |
| Anois, táim buartha 'S fad ar shiúl an lá. Ochón is ochón ó. | Now I am troubled Long gone is is the day Alas, alas, oh. |
| Foinse/Source: Enya, qqq. English translation by Marion Gunn. GAELIC-L LOG9112 |
| Béal Átha hAmhnais | Béal Átha hAmhnais |
| A phlúr na gcuach, 'sé mo thrua go buan Nach fút a bhuail mé i gcleamhnas, Sul dar shiúil mé Tuamhain, bailte móra, Ag déanamh buartha 'gus angar. Is dána mé ná an dánacht féin Agus an dána an té a bhí i ndán dom, Go hifreann na bpéin dá gcuirtí me, Beidh mé a choíche ag caint ort. | O flower of the curly hair, it is my unending sorrow It was not you I met as my match [in matchmaking], Before I travelled all Tuamhain, and the big towns, In fretfulness and misery. I am more daring than daring itself And the one destined for me is also daring. Were I to be sent down to Hell of the torments, I'd still be talking about you. |
| Dá n-éalaínn féin le grá mo chléibh, Cé bhaineann sé don Eaglais? Is ní lú ná céad dá gcloigín féin A chraithfidh siad gan ábhar. A chuach na gcraobh, ó luaidheadh leat mé, Ná sciob den tsaol go fóill me, Is nó go dté na spéartha dubh thrí néalta, 'Na dhéidh sin is tú an réalt eolais. | If I were to elope with the love of my heart, What business is that of the Church? They can shake more than a hundred of their little bells, To no effect. My curly-haired beloved, since we are bethrothed Do not dismiss me from life just yet, And until the dark skies disappear through the clouds, After all that, you are my star to guide me. |
| To hear more, you'll have to buy the book! New edition by William Mahon, published by Cló Iar-Chonnachta (1991) of Amhráin Chlainne Gael originally edited by Mícheál agus Tomás Ó Máille in 1905. | English translation by Marion Gunn. GAELIC-L LOG9201 |
| Maith dhom | Forgive me |
| Im aonar dom aréir, Im shuí cois mara, An spéir ar ghann-chuid néall Is muir is tír faoi chalm, Do chumraíocht ríonda A scáiligh ar scáileán m'aigne Cé loinnir deiridh mo ghrá dhuit Gur shíleas bheith in éag le fada. | Alone last night, Sitting by the sea, Very few clouds in the sky And calm over land and sea, Your regal form Cast its shadow on the screen of my mind Even though I thought that the last spark Of my love for you was well and truly dead. |
| Ghlaos t'ainm go ceanúil Mar ba ghnáthach liomsa tamall, Is tháing scread scáfar Ó eán uaigneach cladaigh; Maith dhom murarbh áil leat Fiú do scáil dhíl im aice, Ach bhí an spéir ar ghannchuid néall Is muir is tír faoi chalm. | I called your name tenderly, As once I used to do, And a terrifying shriek Came from a lonely sea-bird; Please forgive me, if you would not want Even your dear shadow to stand beside me, But there were very few clouds in the sky And calm over land and sea. |
| Foinse/Source: Máirtín Ó Direáin Rogha Dánta (Sáirseál agus Dill). English translation by Marion Gunn. |
| EPITHALAMIUM (do Sheán agus Jean) | EPITHALAMIUM (to Seán and Jean) |
| Tá, i lár na bainise, nóiméad beag sealadach, céimeanna ag gabháilt síos go lána íochtarach i bhfad ón slua, i bhfad ón gcur i gcéill. | A fleeting moment, in the middle of the wedding
celebrations, a flight of steps leading down to a low lane, far from the crowd, from the pretence. |
Na crainn faoi ualach throm braonaíocha fearthainne, copóga sleamhaine is broimfhéar ag gabháilt stealladh dhom go dtugann mo chosa mé go faobhar coiréil. |
the trees carrying a heavy burden of raindrops, slippery docks and rough grass squelching at me, until my feet bring me right to the edge of a quarry. |
| Thíos fúm ar dheis tá an chathair mhór ag
míogarnach, tionúr beag codlata uirthi is í ag éamh. Miam sástachta ag éirí mar ghal san aer ó mhonarchain, is duganna, mar dhea go bhfuil meaisíní is daoine i dtiúin le chéile is iad ag obair taobh le taobh. | Below me, over to the right, the city is dozing, she is in a light sleep, and sighing. Satisfied puffs rising like steam into the air from factories and docks, pretending that the people and the machines are working together in harmony. |
ag saighdeadh leo go grod i naomhóg chaol, fear meagafóin á ngríosadh chun breis iarrachta ag meabhrú a ngail is a ngníomh dóibh, ag fógairt faid saoil. |
thrusting forward and fast in a narrow canoe, a man with a megaphone spurring them on to greater effort, telling of their daring and prowess, wishing them long life. |
| Ar an té is túisce gurb é a bheidh in
uachtar, go bhfuil rith an ráis shíoraí leis is nach baol don té a bheidh go deo mar leathbhádóir aige. Táid ag scinneadh tríd an uisce mar roicéad. | That the first home will be on top, will win the eternal race, that no danger will ever befall his partner in the forever stakes. They are knifing through the water like a launched rocket. |
is meall mór dóláis, ní foláir, suite ar mo chroí a rá gubh ait liom sibh beirt a bheith chomh cróga ag tabhairt faoin bpósadh, ceann de chorthaí móra an tsaoil. |
a great lump of sorrow, it must be, weighing on my heart. To say I wondered at how very brave the two of you were, facing marriage, one of life's big turning-points. |
| Ach ansin cuimhním nach cuing ach gur
soitheach an pósadh ina gcuirtear na mothúcháin faoi theannasaí is brú is mura bpléascann sé go gclaochlaítear an dá phearsain mar chríoch éibhir, atá deacair le hídiú. | But then I recall that marriage is not a bond. It is a
container inside which the emotions are subjected to tension and pressure, until it explodes; if that does not happen, both personalities become granite territory, resisting erosion. |
bláfar seo stoithim daoibh dhá gheág is tugaim chugaibh iad, ag tréaslú bhur sonuachair; labhras cumhra na dea-chistine is lilac corcra na gcraobh. |
garden pluck two branches for you, and present them with congratulations on your choice of spouse; the fragrant bay laurel of the well-run kitchen and the tree-lilac. |
| Foinse/Source: Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill, Comhar 1992-05. A careful reading of the original may reveal a few layers of meaning which have not come across into this English translation by Marion Gunn. GAELIC-L LOG9205 |