Текст песни «Sting - Mo Ghile Mear»


A+ A-

By sean clarach mac domhnaill

Seal da rabhas im' mhaighdean shaimh,
's anois im' bhaintreach chaite thraith,
Mo chaile ag treabhadh na dtonn go traan
De bharr na gcnoc is I n-imigcain.

'sa mo laoch, mo ghile mear,
'sa mo chaesar, ghile mear,
Suan na saan na bhfuaireas fain
a? chuaigh I gcain mo ghile mear.

Bamse buan ar buaidhirt gach la,
Ag caoi go cruaidh 's ag tuar na ndear
Mar scaoileadh uaim an buachaill bea
's na raomhtar tuairisc uaidh, mo bhran.

Na labhrann cuach go suairc ar nain
Is nal guth gadhair I gcoillte cna,
Na maidin shamhraidh I gcleanntaibh ceoigh
a? d'imthigh uaim an buachaill bea.

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

Seinntear stair ar chlairsigh cheoil
's laontair tainte cart ar bord
Le hinntinn ard gan chaim, gan chea
chun saoghal is slainte d' fhaghail dom leamhan.

Ghile mear 'sa seal faoi chumha,
's eire go lair faoi chlacaibh dubha;
Suan na saan na bhfuaireas fain
a? luaidh I gcain mo ghile mear.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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