M'anam do sgar riomsa a-raoir

Le Muireadhach Ó Dálaigh

My soul parted from me last night

Le Muireadhach Ó Dálaigh

M'anam do sgar riomsa a-raoir,

Calann ghlan dob ionnsa i n-uaigh;

Rugadh bruinne maordha mín

Is aonbhla lín uime uainn.

My soul parted from me last night; a pure

body that was dear is in the grave; 

a gentle stately bosom has been taken from

me with one linen shroud about it.

Do tógbhadh sgath aobhdha fhionn

a-mach ar an bhfaongha bhfann:

laogh mo chridhise do chrom,

craobh throm an tighise thall.

A white comely blossom has been plucked

from the feeble bending stalk; my own

heart's darling has drooped, the fruitful

branch of yonder house.

M'aonar a-nocht damhsa, a Dhé,

Olc an saoghal camsa ad-chí;

Dob álainn trom an taoibh naoi

Do bhaoi sonn a-raoir, a Rí.

I am alone to-night, O God; evil is this

crooked world that Thou seest; lovely was

the weight of the young body that was

here last night, O King.

Truagh leam an leabasa thiar,

Mo pheall seadasa dhá snámh;

Tárramair corp seada saor

Is folt claon, a leaba, id lár.

Sad for me (to behold) yonder couch, my

long pallet...; we have seen a tall noble

form with waving tresses upon thee, O

couch.

Do bhí duine go ndreich moill

Ina luighe ar leith mo phill;

Gan bharamhail acht bláth cuill

Don sgáth duinn bhanamhail bhinn.

A woman of gentle countenance lay upon

one side of my pallet; there was naught

save the hazel-blossom like to the dark

shadow, womanly and sweet-voiced.

Maol Mheadha na malach ndonn

Mo dhabhach mheadha a-raon rom;

Mo chridhe an sgáth do sgar riom,

Bláth mhionn arna car do chrom.

Maol Mheadha of the dark brows, my

mead-vessel beside me; my heart the

shadow that has parted from me, the

flower of jewels after being planted has

drooped.

Táinig an chlí as ar gcuing,

Agus dí ráinig mar roinn:

Corp idir dá aisil inn

Ar dtocht don fhinn mhaisigh mhoill.

My body has passed from my control, and

has fallen to her share; I am a body in two

pieces since the lovely bright and gentle

one is gone.

Leath mo throigheadh, leath mo thaobh,

A dreach mar an droighean bán,

Níor dhísle neach dhí ná dhún,

Leath mo shúl í, leath mo lámh.

She was one of my two feet, one of my

sides - her countenance like the white-

thorn; none belonged to her more than to

me, she was one of my eyes, one of my

hands.

Leath mo chuirp an choinneal naoi;

's guirt riom do roinneadh, a Rí;

agá labhra is meirtneach mé -

dob é ceirtleath m'anma í.

She was the half of my body, the fresh

torch; harshly have I been treated, O King;

I am faint as I tell it - she was the very half

of my soul.

Mo chéadghrádh a dearc mhall mhór,

Déadbhán agus cam a cliabh:

Nochar bhean a colann caomh

Ná a taobh ré fear romham riamh.

Her large gentle eye was my first love, her

bosom was curved and white as ivory; her

fair body belonged to no man before me.

Fiche bliadhna inne ar-aon,

Fá binne gach bliadhna ar nglór,

Go rug éinleanabh déag dhún,

An ghéag úr mhéirleabhar mhór.

Twenty years we spent together; sweeter

was our converse every year; she bore to

me eleven children, the tall fresh lithe-

fingered branch.

Gé tú, nocha n-oilim ann,

Ó do thoirinn ar gcnú chorr;

Ar sgaradh dár roghrádh rom,

Falamh lom an domhnán donn.

Though I am alive, I am not more, since

my smooth hazel-nut is fallen; since my

dear love parted from me, the dark world

is empty and bare.

Ón ló do sáidheadh cleath corr

Im theach nochar ráidheadh rum-

Ní thug aoighe d'ortha ann

Dá barr naoidhe dhorcha dhunn.

From the day that a smooth post was fixed

in my house it has not been told me - no

guest laid a spell therein upon her youthful

dark brown hair.

A dhaoine, ná coisgidh damh;

Faoidhe ré cloistin ní col;

Táinig luinnchreach lom 'nar dteagh-

An bhruithneach gheal donn ar ndol.

O men check me not; the sound of

weeping is not forbidden; bare and cruel

ruin has come into my house - the bright

brown glowing one is gone.

Is é rug uan í 'na ghrúg,

Rí na sluagh is Rí na ród;

Beag an cion do chúl na ngéag

A héag ó a fior go húr óg.

It is the King of Hosts and the King of the

Roads who has taken her away in His

displeasure; little was the fault of the

branching tresses that she should die and

leave her husband while fresh and young.

Ionmhain lámh bhog do bhí sonn,

A Rí na gclog is na gceall:

Ach! an lámh nachar logh mionn,

Crádh liom gan a cor fám ceann.

Dear the soft hand that was here, O King

of bells and churchyards; alas! the hand

that never swore (false) oath, 'tis torment

to me that it is not placed under my head.