BRÓNACH MO BHEATHA ... MOURNING NIALL ...
Irish trad. tr. Trevor Joyce

Brónach mo bheatha gan Níall:
cā pîan do chuirfinn 'na cheann?
fa[d] an laoí tar éis i Néill,
do mhill sin go léir mo dhealbh.

Nī gan t[u]irse atú anocht:
ōs gach sgéal is ionmhuin Níall,
mar sin do Theamraigh na ttlacht
do dhorchaidh a brat 's a níamh.

Eamhain gan chéol 's gan chuirm,
giodh mór an mhuirn do bhí úair,
is Craobhruadh Chonchubhair na ccreach,
do chuadar fo seach a slúaigh.

Neamhchainteach Oileach anocht
port 'na ccluinfidhe mór céol
Loch Feabhail is garbh [a] ghuth,
tairnnic mo cruth 's ní bhíu béo.

Crúacha Chonnacht, Nás na Riogh,
tairnis a mbrígh go mór mór,
is Caisil a mbronntaoí eich;
fada liom a mbeith fá bhrón.

Brónach fós an áirdsi thúaith,
ni éistid a slúa[i]gh mo ghlór;
do dhorchaidh an áird andeas;
dhubh mo chneas ó bheith fá bhrón.

Thug feadha gan gotha éan
ēug uī Néill do bronnadh ór;
do muchadh meadhair na slúagh;
dā éis-sion is búan mo bhrón.

Mé céile Néill Ghlúnduibh ghil:
bean an fhir go n-iomad slógh;
nī chluineam acht báothghlór ban;
nī hiongnamh dhamh bheith fá bhrón.
.................. Brónach.

Mourning Niall I survive;
what pain could exceed this?
surplus such days,
me so disfigured.

Bone-weary tonight, I,
all love-words exhausted;
draped Tara quenched too,
all glamour gone out.

Emain silent and dark
where they played once,
hosts gathered
departed.

Utter silence in Oileach:
no music;
Lough Foyle's speech is hoarse;
disfigured, I die.

To the west to the east
each kingdom enfeebled,
it grieves me
their grief.

Sad this north too
my voice strange to its soldiery;
the south dwindles away,
grief blurs my face.

My king, son of kings,
who gave away gold,
dead, stuns the woods;
grief endures.

King Niall Blackknee, his queen,
master of armies, his consort,
now has gossip for counsel;
do you question my
.................. mourning?

Trans. copyright © Trevor Joyce 2008 - publ. Shearsman Books


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