Hello all. I'm hoping you can translate this poem into Gaelic. However, I may not use it all, so at least give me the first stanza (from "Give me" to "delight") if that's possible. Poem by Thomas Moore.



Thanks! And ask any questions you need.

If you're happy with a literal translation, that should be no problem. Do know, though, that a literal translation will likely affect the rhythm/rhyme etc of the poem. So long as you're aware of this, this shouldn't be too hard a translation.

Yes, I thought of that. Most of the readers of the book will not be able to pronounce the words, so I don't think that will be a problem. I will reference the author (Thomas Moore) and the title elsewhere for anyone nosy enough to want to know. But it's meant as an endearment between a husband and wife.

Thanks!

Hello, may I ask why you want this specific poem translated?- Is it for a book?- and if so I'm guessing that someone with Irish would recite it, no?

Would it not make more sense to acquire an authentic song or poem that is originally in Irish?- I see there that you said a husband would recite in to his wife. There are many love songs in Irish for both men reciting to women and women reciting to men?

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You can ask, and I will answer.

If you have a suggestion that fits within my needs, I'm all ears (or eyes). I need a short poem, three or four lines (hence why I said I would probably only use the first stanza) of a love poem written enough before 1870 that a common individual would know it. This is why I chose Thomas Moore. The character in the book is of Irish descent, but living in America. He has memories of poems and songs his mother taught him and a decent grasp on Gaelic. His wife is American and doesn't speak Gaelic at all, but he likes to tease her with it anyhow. In this scene, he is saying something romantic and perhaps a tad naughty (but not over the top please) which he again refuses to translate.

As a side note, this forum has really helped me with this book, and though I feel too ignorant to ever learn Gaelic, I find it fascinating and inspiring that people keep it alive. So thanks for that from someone distinctly American with an Irishman way back in her roots somewhere.

Here's a short one from An Duanaire (No. 69):

'S Í BLÁTH GEAL NA SMÉAR Í

'S í bláth geal na sméar í,
's í bláth deas na sú craobh í,
's í planda b'fhearr méin mhaith
_le hamharc do shúl;
's í mo chuisle, 's í mo rún í,
's í bláth na n-úll gcumhra í,
is samhradh ins an fhuacht í
_idir Nollaig is Cáisc.

SHE'S THE BLACKBERRY FLOWER

She's the blackberry flower,
the fine raspberry flower,
she's the plant of the best breeding
_your eyes could behold;
she's my darling and dear,
my fresh apple-tree flower,
she is Summer in the cold
_between Christmas and Easter


A bit tame perhaps ...

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[hr]Múinteoir Gaeilge - Irish Teacher[/hr]
My "specialty" is Connemara Irish, particularly Cois Fhairrge dialect, but I can also speak Ulster and Munster Irish with native-level pronunciation.
Is fearr Gaeilge ḃriste ná Béarla cliste, cinnte, aċ i ḃfad níos fearr aríst í Gaeilge ḃinn ḃeo na nGaeltaċtaí.
Gaeilge Chonnacht (GC), go háraid Gaeilge Chois Fhairrge (GCF), Gaeilic Uladh (GU), Gaelainn na Mumhan (GM), agus Gaeilge an Chaighdeáin Oifigiúil (CO).

Well, it's missing the kiss and the delicious night.

I pressed the submit button before the preview button by accident. So I didn't know I had submitted the same message twice.

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All songs/ poem taken from "An Duanaire 1600- 1900, Poems of the Dispossessed" by Seán Ó Tuama and Thomas Kinsella

Caiseal Mumhan pg. 278

Phósfainn thú gan bha gan phunt gan áireamh spré,
agus phógfainn thú maidin drúchta le bánú an lae.
'Sé mo ghalar dubhach gan mé is tú , a dhianghrá mo chléibh
i gCaiseal na Mumhan is gan de leaba fúinn ach clár bog déil.

I would wed you without cattle, without money or a counted dowry.
I would kiss you on a dewy morning in the lightening day.
Sad sickness I am not beside you (My blighted illness it is without us being together), dear love of my breast,
In Caiseal of Munster- let our bed be but a bog deal board. (and only beneath us but a bog deal board)

Siúil, a chogair, is tar a chodladh liom féin sa ghleann:
Gheobhaidh tú foscadh, leaba fhlocais is aer cois abhann;
beidh na srutha ag gabháil tharainn faoi ghéaga crann;
beidh an londubh inár bhfochair is an chéirseach dhonn.

Come to the valley, my love: come sleep with me! (Walk, my whisper (love), and come sleep with me in the glen (valley)
shelter you'll find there, flock bed, fresh air by the river.
The streams will go flowing beside us under tree branches
The blackbird we'll have for a neighbour, and the brown song- thrush.

Searc mo chléíbh a thug mé féin duit is grá trí rún,
's go dtaga sé de chor sa tsaol dom bheith lá 'gus tú
is ceangal cléire eadrainn araon is an fainne dlúth;
is dá bhfeicfinn féin ag aon fhear gheobhainn bás le cumha

The love of my breast I gave you, my secret devotion.
That day in life's course, may it come,
when you and I have the holy bond between us and the steadfast ring- for my love if I saw with another I would die of grief.

As you can probably tell from the context- the story is about a poor man who wishes to marry the love of his life. Though he has not much to offer her " is gan de leaba fúinn ach clár bog déil" (Stanza 1)
If she were to go with him- their love and the paradise of nature would provide for them "is tar a chodladh liom féin sa ghleann: gheobhaidh tú foscadh, leaba fhlocais is aer cois abhann" (Stanza 2)
The translation brackets is where I feel the poem is lacking- in order to keep the English rhyme.

Coillte Glasa na Triúcha p.g 280

This is the first verse from this poem:

A chúl álainn tais na bhfáinní cas,
is breá 's deas do shúile
's go bhfuil mo chroí a shlad mar shníomhfaí gad
le bliain mhór fhada ag tnúth leat;
dá bhfaighinnse ó cheart cead síneadh leat
is éadrom gasta shiúlfainn-
Is é mo mhíle creach gan mé is tú, a shearc,
faoi choillte glasa an Triúcha

Hair soft and lovely, in twinning curls
eyes so clear and fine,
my heart is racked for want of you,
like a twisted twig for a year.
If I'd right and licence to stretch beside you
airy (lightly) and quick would I step!
A thousand pangs, my love, we are not in the green woods of triúcha
(My thousand up- roars that me and you, my love, are not before/ in the green woods of Triúcha.)

An Cuimhin leat an oíche úd p.g 294

This poem or song is from a woman to a man, but a beautiful poem none the less- If their love is to continue they must elope from her family and especially her mother as they are standing between them. If this elopement doesn't occur their love is surely over- it is a beautiful description of love:

An cuimhin leat on oíche úd
A bhí tú ag an bhfuinneog,
gan hata gan láimhne
dod dhíon, gan chasóg?-
do shín mé mo lámh chúghat
's do rug tú uirthi barróg,
is d'fhan mé id' chomhluadar
nó go labhair an fhuiseog.

Remember that night
and you an me at the window
with no hat or glove
or coat to cover you?
I gave you my hand
and you took and clasped it
and I stayed with you
till the skylark spoke.

An Cuimhin leat an oiche úd
a bhí tusa agus mise
ag bun an chrainn chaorthainn
's an oiche ag cur cuisne
do cheann ar mo chíocha
is do phiob gheal á seinm?-
is beag a shíleas an oíche úd
go scaoilfeadh ár gcumann.

Remember the night
when you and I
were under the rowan
and the night was freezing
your head on my breasts
and your bright pipe playing....
I little thought then
that our love would sever.

A chumainn mo chroí istigh
tar oíche ghar éigin
nuair a luífidh mo mhuintir
chun cainte le chéile;
beidh mo dhá láimh id' thimpeall
's mé ag insint mo scéil duit-
's gurb é do chomhrá suairc mín tais
a bhain radharc fhlaithis Dé díom.

My hearts beloved
come some night soon
when my people sleep,
and we'll talk together.
I'll put my arms around you
and tell you my story
-O your mild sweet talk
took my sight of Heaven!

Tá an tine gan coigilt
Is an solas gan múchadh,
tá an eochair faoin doras
is tarraing go ciúin í
tá mo mháthair 'na codladh
is mise im' dhúiseacht,
tá m' fhortún im' dhorn
is mé ullamh chun siúil leat.

The fire is unracked (without saving- i.e there love is unsaveable)
and the light unquenched.
The Key is under the door
- close it softly.
My mother's asleep
and I am awake
my fortune in hand
and ready to go

It is a beautiful poem that captures the essence of forbidden true love.
There is a bit of raunchiness in the second stanza though but it is subtle and under toned-

"is do phíob gheal á sheinm?- "and your bright pipe playing music"

If you require it to be short maybe use one stanza.

Interpret that as you will !

I see Breandán you got in there ahead of me with the same idea of using "An Duanaire" but as I had it half written before I noticed I decided to continue.

I hope this has helped slightly and hopefully it has convinced you that an authentic Irish poem/ song, is well, more authentic than a translation of an English poem.

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If it requires to be subtly naughty maybe a stanza from an binsín luachra which is really about loosing her virginity- if I can get my hands on it.

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