Aithbe Damsa Bés Mara (sliocht) The Lament of the Old Woman of Beare (excerpt)
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Aithbe Damsa Bés Mara (sliocht) The Lament of the Old Woman of Beare (excerpt)

Aithbe damsa bés mara;
sentu fom-dera croan;
toirsi oca ce do-gnéo,
sona do-táet a loan.

Is mé Caillech Bérre Buí,
do-meilinn léne mbithnuí;
indíu táthum dom shémi
ná melainn cid athléni.

It moíni
charthar lib, nidat doíni;
ind inbaid i mmarsamar
batar doíni carsamar.

Batar inmaini doíni
ata maige mad-ríadam;
ba maith no meilmis leo,
ba bec no moítis íaram.

Indíu trá caín-timgarat,
ocus ní mór nond-oídet;
cíasu bec do-n-idnaiget,
is mór a mét no-moídet.

Carpait lúaith
ocus eich do-beirtis búaid,
ro boí, denus, tuile díb:
bennacht ar ríg roda-úaid.

Tocair mo chorp co n-aichri
dochum adba díar aichni;
tan bas mithig la Mac nDé
do-té do breith a aithni.

Ebb-tide to me as to the sea;
old age causes me to be sallow;
although I may grieve
thereat, it comes to its food joyfully.

I am the Old Woman of Beare, from Dursey;
I used to wear a smock that was always new.
Today I am become so thin that
I would not wear out even a cast-off smock.

It is riches you love,
and not people;
when we were alive,
it was people we loved.

Beloved were the people
whose lands we happily traversed;
well did we fare among them,
and it was little they boasted afterwards.

Today indeed they are good at claiming,
and they are not lavish in granting the claim;
although they bestow little,
great is the extent to which they boast of it.

Swift chariots
and steeds that took the prize,
for a time there was an abundance of them:
a blessing on the king who gave them.

Bitterly does my body seek to go
to a dwelling where it is known;
when the Son of God deems it time,
let him come to carry off His deposit.

 

    Gan Ainm
Anon
c.900

Ealaíontóir/Artist:
Peannaire/Calligrapher:
Aistritheoir/Translator:
Ainmníodh ag/Nominator:
Bernadette Cotter
David McGrail
Donncha Ó hAodha
Biddy Jenkinson

 

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