Tá mé i mo shuí ó d’éirigh an ghealach aréir,
Ag cur tine síos go buan is á fadú go géar;
Tá bunadh an tí ina luí is tá mise liom féin,
Tá an coileach ag glaoch is tá an saol ina gcodladh ach mé.
’Sheacht mh’anam déag, do bhéal, do mhalaí is do ghrua,
Do shúil ghorm ghlé faoinar thréig mise aiteas is suairc,
Le cumha i do dhéidh ní léir dom an bealach a shiúl,
Is, a chara mo chléibh, tá an saol ag dul idir mé is tú.
’S é deir lucht léinn gur cloíte an galar an grá:
Char admhaigh mé féin é go ndearna sé mo chroí istigh a chrá;
Aicíd ró-ghéar, faraoir nár sheachain mé í,
Chuir sí arraing is céad go géar trí cheartlár mo chroí.
Casadh bean sí dom thíos ag lios Bhéal an Átha,
D’fhiafraigh mé díthe an scaoilfeadh glas ar bith grá;
Labhair sí os íseal i mbriathra soineanta sámha,
“An grá a théid fán chroí, cha scaoiltear as é go brách.” |
Since moonrise last evening I’m here like a fool sitting up,
Feeding the fire and stoking the embers and coals,
The house is asleep and I’m here on my own all the night,
Here’s the cock crowing and everyone snoring but me.
All I can see is your mouth, your brow and your cheek,
Your burning blue eye that robbed me of quiet and peace,
Lonely without you I can’t find a path for my feet,
Friend of my heart, there are mountains between me and you.
The learned men say that love is a killing disease,
I wouldn’t believe them until it had scalded my heart,
The acid is eating me I’d have done better to shun,
Stabbing like splinters of lightning tonight in my chest.
I met a wise woman below at the mouth of the ford,
I asked if she knew of a herb that might ease love’s pain,
Her voice when she answered was soft, regretful and low:
When it goes to the heart it will never come out again. |
