| Loch na Craoibhe | Crew Lough |
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| Loch na Craoibhe | Crew Lough |
| Tá dreach na tíre seo againn breac le mionlocha ciúine, Iad faoi cheilt, faoi rúin, d’fhéadfá a rá, Ag cnocáin mhaola agus ag sceacha cumhra. Ní mór duit dul sa tóir orthu, An carr a pháirceáil cois an bhealaigh mhóir Agus cead a iarraidh ar an scológ choimhthíoch, An geata meirgeach a scaoileadh, Móinéar agus páirc a shiúl, Agus fiastalach na tíre faoi do chosa, Nó go nochtann chugat de phlimp Gealscillingí na staire. Ní thuigeann ach na sceacha sin a mhalairt. Agus tá scéal mo mhuintire breac leis na mionlocha seo, Agus leis an tom chrannógach udaí, Amuigh ar an oileán chraobhach sin. Ionad foscaidh ag Gaeil, port aireachais na muintire, Tráth a mhair siad agus a gceart acu. Loch Inse Uí Fhloinn, Loch líofa Ruacháin, Loch Luca Ghleann Chon Cadhain, agus Loch seo na Craoibhe – Ní sceitheann siad a rún: Cad a sheol Aodh Mór an bealach aistearach seo Ar a thuras léanmhar? Cad a spreag Tarlach Gruama gur chuir a dhóchas I ngarbhsceacha Ruacháin? Ní thuigeann ach na sceacha féin agus slaparnach an uisce, Agus tá Loch Luca ina sheascann críon Agus is bogach inniu Loch Inse Uí Fhloinn. |
The face of this country of ours is dotted with little loughs Hidden as they are at the foot of sloping hills mid fragrant whitethorn You must seek them out Park there by the roadside And nod to planter’s writ and whim. Then follow field and fallow The coarse grass of the land bristling at your feet Then suddenly they are there before you The bright shillings of our story. Only the whitethorns understand the difference. And my people’s story is dotted with these little loughs And with the bushy dwelling on these leafy islands. The harbour of the Gael, our sanctuary once When we held sway. And had our way and presence here. Loughinsholin and smooth Roughan And this lough here at Crew. They keep their secrets well. What brought the Great Ó Neill this way On his fateful journey? I ask. And Tarlach Gruama – why put your trust In those rough thorns at Roughan? Only the thorns now know, And the silent waters. And Lough Lug today is but a wizened fen, And Loughinsholin a tired bog. |
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Diarmaid Ó Doibhlin |
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| Ealaíontóir/Artist: Peannaire/Calligrapher: Aistritheoir/Translator: Ainmníodh ag/Nominator: |
Marian Leven Donald Addison The Author Gréagóir Ó Dúill |
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