| 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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