"Saol a chaith sé mar ní haon duine eile." Possibly using "and">"agus" in the construction, which is used in certain Irish sentences: "A life he lived and not like any other." > ". . . agus ní mar aon duine eile."

I really like that. I’ll use it if it’s not plagiarism.

In the words of Billy Joel...getting closer.

“A war he battled like no other
a fight waged that many have fled.
In a place somewhere like everywhere
in a city somewhere like no other,
fought by men and women we’ve met
everyday in realms seen and unknown,
men and women like every other
his fight was like none other.

OK, let's see if we can get someone to check it. And the following . . .

Cogadh a throid sé agus níor throid sé cosúil le aon duine eile,
troid a d'fhógraíodh agus theith go leor duine.
In áit, áit éigin cosúil le gach áit
i gcathair in áit éigin ach ní cosúil le ceann eile,
troideadh le fir agus mná a bhuaileamar le chéile
gach lá i réimsí atá feicthe agus nach eol dúinn,
fir agus mná cosúil le gach uile duine,
ní raibh a troid cosúil le ceann eile.

Fantastic! So grateful. And excited. The Final Four! Woohoo.

“A death he owned like no other
a grave he keeps like many others.
In a realm somewhere like everywhere
in a realm somewhere like no where,
owned by man we’ve seldom met
everyday in morning’s mirror,
a life lived by too few
a sacrifice like no one other


I’ll keep adding them and edit as it comes in. A huge thank you.

Raibh sé ar úinéireacht bás ach ní cosúil le aon duine eile,
uaigh a choinníonn sé cosúil le go leor eile.
I réimse atá in áit éigin cosúil le gach áit
i réimse atá in áit éigin agus ní cosúil le haon áit eile,
a bhí faoi úinéireacht leis an fear nach bhuaileamar leis annamh
i scáthán na maidine gach lá,
saol a chaitheadh le ró-bheag duine,
Íobairt nach raibh cosúil le haon ceann eile.

I’m almost sad it’s coming to an end. But mostly just thankful and excited. Thank you. A constant thank you.

Last three!!!


“Your death dearest Argot
a piece of the everlasting reveals;
this fact not known to the weak,
who cower when evil rises,
shown to so few who dare to seek,
hidden to those who fear
the price of knowledge to grasp.

A Argot, a chara mo chroí,
is do bhás a nochtann páirt na síoraíochta;
is ag na daoine laga a chúbann nuair a thagann an olc chucu,
nach bhfuil a fhíos acu ar an fíric seo
atá taispeánta do ró-beag duine a thugann aghaidh ar lorg,
agus i bhfolach dóibh siúd a bhfuil eagla orthu tuiscint a fháil ar phraghas an eolais.

And we are coming to an end here. The last two. Excited. Ecstatic. Nervous.

You, my beloved, above all others
true cowardice did you evade.
Shoulders once heavy with life’s burdens;
in your rest you now find
the ease of the yoke
of your calling true,
of the glory of life eternal.

Tweaking that a bit:

A Argot, a chara mo chroí,
is é do bhás a nochtann píosa den tsíoraíocht;
rud é seo nach eol do na daoine laga,
a chreathnaíonn roimh an olc.
Ní thaispeáintear é ach don fhíorbheagán a bhfuil sé de mhisneach acu bheith ag lorg;
tá sé i bfholach dóibh siúd a bhfuil eagla orthu tuiscint a fháil ar phraghas an eolais.

Some tweaking required on the ones just before this. Might get to it later.

Thanks for helping Errigal. So appreciated. Tweaks have been tweaked.

Míle maith agat! Sílim nach mór linn go leor rud ar fad a chur in éagar.