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Sting & Police

Sting & Police

Mo Ghile Mear

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Оригинален текст

by Se Clach Mac Domhnaill

Seal da rabhas im' mhaighdean shmh,
'S anois im' bhaintreach chaite thrth,
Mo chle ag treabhadh na dtonn go trn
De bharr na gcnoc is i n-imigcn.

'S mo laoch, mo Ghile Mear,
'S mo Chaesar, Ghile Mear,
Suan n sn n bhfuaireas fn
chuaigh i gcn mo Ghile Mear.

Bse buan ar buaidhirt gach l,
Ag caoi go cruaidh 's ag tuar na nde
Mar scaoileadh uaim an buachaill be'S n rmhtar tuairisc uaidh, mo bhr.

N labhrann cuach go suairc ar nn
Is n guth gadhair i gcoillte cn,
N maidin shamhraidh i gcleanntaibh ceoigh
d'imthigh uaim an buachaill be.

Marcach uasal uaibhreach ,
Gas gan gruaim is suairce snh,
Glac is luaimneach, luath i ngleo
Ag teascadh an tslua 's ag tuargain treon.

Seinntear stair ar chlairsigh cheoil
's lntair tnte ct ar bord
Le hinntinn ard gan chaim, gan cheChun saoghal is slnte d' fhaghl dom lehan.

Ghile mear 'sa seal faoi chumha,
's Eire go lr faoi chlaibh dubha;
Suan n sn n bhfuaireas fn
luaidh i gcn mo Ghile Mear.

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A literal translation by J. Mark Sugars 1997

Once I was a gentle maiden,
But now I am a spent, worn-out widow,
My consort strongly plowing the waves
Over the hills and far away.

He is my hero, my Gallant Darling,
He is my Caesar, a Gallant Darling;
I've found neither rest nor fortune
Since my Gallant Darling went far away.

Every day I am constantly enduring grief,
Weeping nitterly and shedding tears,
Because my lively lad has left me
And no news is told of him - alas!

The cuckoo does not sing cheerfully at noon
And the sound of hounds is not heard in nut-tree woods
Nor summer morning in misty glen
Since my lively boy went away from me.

Noble, proud young horseman,
Youth without gloom, of pleasant countenance,
A swift-moving fist, nimble in a fight,
Slaying the enemy and smiting the strong.

Let a strain be played on musical harps,
And let many quarts be filled on the table,
With high spirit, without fault, without gloom,
That my lion may receive long life and health.

Gallant Darling for a while under sorrow,
And Ireland completely under black cloacks,
I have found neither rest nor fortune
Since my Gallant Darling went far away

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