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An bhfuil sionnach ar sliabh ná iasc ar trá, ls there a fox on a
mountain or a fish on a strand,
Iolar le fiach ná fia le fán. An eagle that seeks prey or a wandering
deer,
Chomh fada gan chiall le bliain ná lá, So long without sensefor
a day or a year
A chaithfeadh gan bhia 'san fiach le fáil? That they'd go without food
when there's game to be got?
An aithnid daoibh san saol seo i bpráinn Do you know in this world of the
urgent need
An t-ainmhí claon nó aon fheithid fáin. Of the animal [so]
perverse, or any stray creature,
A bhlaisfeadh an chré, an fraoch nó an fál, Who'd taste the
clay, the heather or the hedge,
Is fiorthann go slaodach agus féar le fáil? [When] there's wheat-grass
in swathes and hay to be got?
Aithris gan mhoill, a chladhaire chráite! Tell without delay, you tormenting
rogue!
Freagair mé faighimse feidhm id ráite! Answer me! let me find purpose
in your utterance!
Cá bhfuil do dhíth ag suí chun béile Where is your
loss sitting down for a meal
Ar caitheadh le mí aici i dtíos na féile? Of all that was
eaten, for a month, in a hospitable home?
An laigide an chúil nó an lúide an láthair, Is it
any meaner the corner, or smaller the site.
Cúig mhilliún má shiúil le ráithe ann? If five
millions walked for three months there?
Mairg id cheann, A sheandaigh thamhanda! Woe to your head, you lethargic old ancient!
An eagal leat ganntan in am do dhúile? Do you fear scarcity in the time
of your craving?
A ghliogaire bhuile, an dtuigir gur bhaol duit Oh prattler of frenzy, do you think
there is danger to you
Ól na Sionainne tirim nó a taoscadh? Drinking the Shannon dry or
its bailing?
Trá na farraige nó tarraing an tsáile Ebbing of the sea or
the pull of the brine
'Is clár na mara do scaipeadh le scála? And the surface of the sea
to scatter with a basin?
Breathnaigh in am ar leamhas do smaointe, Consider at the time the silliness of
your thinking,
Ceangail do cheann le banda timpeall, Bind your head with a hand around it
Seachain i dtráth, ná fág do chiall Beware in time, don't
leave your senses
D'eagla mná bheith páirteach fial, For fear of a woman being sympathetic
and generous,
'Is dá gcaithfeadh sí an lá le cách dá riar,
If she would spend the day with everyone, serving all,
Beidh tuille 'is do shaith le fail ina ndiaidh! There'll be more than you need,
to be got after them!
Mo chumha! mo chrá! ba bhreá sin éad bheith My sorrow! my
agony! that would be fine, jealousy to be
Ar lonnaire láidir, lánmhear, léadmhar, In a hero, strong,
perfect, and daring,
Shantach, sháiteach, shásta, sheasmhach, Greedy, glutted, willing
and reliable,
Ramsach, ráflach, rábach, rabairneach; Romping, chattering, dashing,
extravagant;
Lascaire luaimneach, luascach, líofa; A rollicker, fickle, shifty, glib;
Balcaire buan nó buailteoir bríomhar; A steadfast toughy or a potent
hammerer:
Faraire suairc nó cuairteoir cumasach; A cheerful warrior or a vigorous
visitor;
Scafaire suthain nó cluantóir cuisleannach. A permanent bold fellow
or a strong-armed flatterer.
Ach seanduine seanda, crannda, créimeach; But an ould fella, ancient, stunted,
abusive:
Feannaire feannta agus feam gan féile. A fleeced old scoundrel with a rod
without pleasure.
Is mithid dom chroí a bheith líonta de léithe It is time
for my heart to be filled with greyness
Agus m'iontas trí gach smaointe baotha; And my wonder pervading all foolish
thoughts;
Céard a bheir scaoilte ó chuibhreach céile What would bring
freedom from a binding of a spouse,
In eaglais sinsir suim na cléire. In the ancestral church, all of the clergy.
Mo chrá gan leigheas! mo threighid dom' fháscadh! My torment without
cure! my pain gripping me!
Is láidir m'fhoighne agus laghad mo ráige. It is strong my patience
and small my anger,
An méid atá dínn ar díth gan éinneach The number
there are of us deficient, without anyone
Agus mian ár gcroí faoi shnaidhm na h-éide! And our hearts'
desire to be under the knot of the Cloth!
Nach bocht an radharc do mhaighre ghrámhar Is it not pitiful the sight,
for an lovable maiden,
A dtoirt 'is a dtaibhse, a mbaill 'is a mbreáthacht, Their size and their
looks, their limbs and their beauty,
Bloscadh a n-aghaidh agus soilse a ngáire, Radiance of their faces and
light of their laughter,
A gcoirp 'is a gcoim, a dtoill ar a támhchrith. Their bodies & their
waists, their bums feebly trembling.
Úireacht, áilleacht blath 'is óige, Freshness, beauty, flower
and youth,
Ramhadas cnámh agus meachain feola, Stoutness of bones and force of flesh,
Martús trom agus drom gan suathadh, A solid torso and a back unstooped,
Neart gan dabhat agus fonn gan fuaradh. Strength without doubt and desire without
cooling.
Bíonn sealbh gach só acu ar bhord na saoithe, They do be owning
every comfort at the table of the wise,
Earra agus ór chun óil 'is aoibhnis, Merchandise and gold for drink
and delight,
Clúmh chun luí 'is saill chun bia, Feathers to lie on and salt meat
for food,
Plúr 'is meidhir 'is mílseacht fíona. Flour and fun and the
sweetness of wine.
Is gnáthach cumasach iomadach óg iad. It is usually capable, haughty
and young they are,
'Is tá a fhios againn gur fuil 'is feoil iad! And we know that they're
blood and flesh!
Cumha ní ghlacfainn le cafairí coillte, I wouldn't be sorry for
castrated prattlers,
Súmairí galair ná searraigh gan soilse, Diseased scroungers
or unenlightened colts.
Ach malfairí bodach' 'is tollairí tréana But lusty strong
fellows, and tough tearaways
I dtamhaíl codlata agus obair gan déanamh. In lethargy of sleep
with work undone.
Creidim gan bhréag gur mhéinn le roint díobh I believe, without
a lie, that some of them desire
Filleadh le féile, daor ní bheinnse. Returning to pleasure; dear
I wouldn't be.
Cothram, ní cóir an t-ord le chéile Really, it's not just
[for] the whole order
A chrochadh le corda, a gabháil, ná a dhaoradh, To be hanged with
a rope, arrested or convicted,
Bás na droinge go deimhin ní ghráfainn, Death of the multitude
certainly I will not be fond of,
Lán na loinge chun duine ní bháfainn. The full of a ship,
to a man, I will not drown.
Cuid acu bíodh gur réicigh riamh iad, Although some of them were
as rakes always,
Agus cuid acu a bhíonn gan ríomh, gan riail leo And some of them
do be without reckoning or rule,
Crúncaigh crua gan trua, gan tréithe, Decrepit, hard without pity,
without accomplishments,
Fíochmhar, fuar agus fuath do bhéithe; Fierce, cold, with hatred
for the maidens:
Cuid acu atá níos fearr ná a chéile, Some of them
are better than others,
Tuilte le grá 'is le grásta féile. Flooded with love and
with grace of generosity.
Is minic a bhuaitear buaibh 'is gréithe, It is often was gained cattle
and delph,
Cuigeann 'is cruach de chuairt na cléire. Churn and rick from a visit of
clergy.
Is minic le mo chuimhne a maíodh a dtréithe It is often I recall
their qualities being praised
Agus iomad dá ngníomhartha fíorghlic féithe. And many
of their deeds, truly clever and talented.
Is minic a chualas ar fud na tíre It is often I heard throughout the land
Siosarnach luath á lua go líonmhar, An active whisper being uttered
frequently,
Agus chonarc go taibhseach roint dá rancaibh And I saw plainly some of
their frolicking
Agus uimhir dá gclann ar sloinnte falsa. And a number of their children
with false surnames.
Baineaon sé fáscadh as lár mo chléibhe It presses
from the midst of my bosom
A gcaitear dá sláinte ar mhná treasaosta; All that is spent
of their health on women of riper years;
Is torann san tír chun díth na mbéithe It's a calamity in
the country, for the women's loss,
Ar cuireadh gan bhrí den síolrach naofa. All that was wasted needlessly
of the holy seed.
Is dealbh an diachair dianghoirt d'Éirinn It is bleak the affliction, intensely
bitter, for Ireland
Ar chailleamar riamh le riail gan éifeacht. All that we lost up to now
by a pointless rule.
Fágaim fútsa, a chnú na céille, I put it to you, oh
essence of wisdom,
Fáth an chúrsa 'is cumha na cléire. Cause of the circumstances
& predicament of the clergy.
Is meallta, millte, laghad mo dhóchais, It is deceived, destroyed, the
smallness of my confidence,
Is dall gan radbarc mé, soilsigh m'eolas! It is blind, without sight, I
am; enlighten my knowledge!
Aithris, ós cuimhin leat, caint na bhfáithe Tell, out of your memory,
the saying of the prophets
Agus aspail an Rí ba bhíogach, ráiteach: And the King's apostle
that was vigorous, pithy:
Cá bhfuil na cumhachta a ordaigh an Dúileamh? Where are the powers
the Creator decreed?
Is calcadh na feola á gcoróinn nó á gcumhdach. It's
hardening the flesh, their tonsuring or cloistering.
Pól, dar liom, ní duírt d'éinneach Paul, I think,
never said to anyone
An pósadh a dhiúltú ach drúis a shéanadh. To
renounce marriage, only lust to deny.
Scaradh led ghaoil dá mhéid do ghnaoi To part from your kin, whatever
your liking
'Is ceangal go h-éag agus cloí led mhnaoi. And be bound until death
and cleave to your wife.
Is obair gan bhrí do mhnaoi mar táimse It's pointless work for a
woman such as I myself am
Focal an dlí a mhaíomh id láthair; A word of the law to utter
in your presence;
Is cuimhin leat féin, a phéarla an tsaibhris, It is in your own
memory, oh pearl of the richness,
Suíomh gach scéil is léir duit soilseach, Proof of every
story is transparently obvious to you
Binnghuth buan 'is bua na mbriathar, An ever-sweet voice and the gift of the gab
'Is caint an Uain nach luafar bréagach: And the saying of the Lamb that
will not be said falsely:
Dia nárbh áil leis máthair aonta God did not want an unmarried
mother
'Is riail gach fáige i bhfábhar béithe. And the law of every
prophet in favour of women.
Guím go h-ard tú, a fháidhbhean tsíthe, I beseech
you loudly, oh prophetess of the fairies,
A shiolrach neamhaí de bharr na ríthe! Oh heavenly seed of the pick
of the kings!
A shoillseach ghlórmhar! a choróinn na slóite! Oh glorious
beauty! oh crown of the multitudes!
Aire le mo ghlórsa! fóir 'is fuar mé! Give heed to my voice!
help and relieve me!
Méaigh id intinn díth na mbéithe Weigh in your mind the loss
of the women
Agus práinn na mílte brídeach maorga And the urgent needs
of thousands of gentle maidens
Agus toicí mar táid thar bhráid a chéile And wenches
as if they are over each other's neck
Ag borradh 'is ag fás mar álmhach géanna, Developing and
growing like a clutch of geese,
An tál is lú atá ag siúl na sráide, The smallest
progeny who are walking the streets,
Gárlaigh dhubha atá giúnach gránna, Evil brats that
are foolish and ugly,
An aga dá laghad má fhaighid a sláinte However short the
time, if they will get their health
Le glasra, meadhg agus bleaghdar, fásfaid. With greens, whey and curdled
milk, they'll grow.
Má mharaid gan phuinn don aois gan éifeacht, If they live, aimlessly,
to adulthood, useless,
Tiocfaidh na cíocha, scinnfid, scéithfid! The breasts will come,
they'll burst forth, they'll bloom!
Scalladh mo chléibh! is baoth mo smaointe Scalding of my bosom! it is foolish
my thoughts
Ag tagairt ar chéile i gcaoartha tinte. Referring to a mate in thunderbolts
of rage.
Is deacair dom súil le súchas a fháil It is hard for me to
hope for pleasure to get
Is gan fear in aghaidh triúir san Mhumhain do mhná. And only a man
for three women in Munster.
Ó tharla an ceantar gann so gámhar, Since this poor district happens
to be needy,
Na maithe go fann 'san t-am so práinneach, The gentry weak and at this
time distressed,
Fódla folamh agus fothram ag fiaile, Ireland empty and a turmoil of weeds,
Óga an phobail ag cromadh 's ag liathadh, The young of society stooping
and going grey,
Aonta fada go dealbh gan foighne; Single for long, destitute, impatient;
D'éinneach ar talamh, fear éigin faighimse! From anyone on earth,
some man let me get!
Ceangail i dtráth go tláth faoin úim iad, Join them in time
gently under the yoke,
'Is as san go bráth ach fágtar fúinn iad! And from then on
let them be left to us!
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AsGaeilge