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An Cuimhin Leat an Oíche Úd Gan ainm |
An Duanaire 1600 - 1900 (Poems of the Dispossessed) edited by Sean Ó Tuama Dublin: The Dolmen Press / Bord na Gaeilge, 1981 |
| Remember That Night - translation by Thomas Kinsella |
An cuimhin leat an oíche úd
a bhí tú ag an bhfuinneog,
gan hata gan láimhne
dod dhíon, gan chasóg? -
do shin mé mo lámh chúghat
's do rug tú uirthi barróg,
is dfhan mé id chomhluadar
nó gur labhair an fhuiseog.
An cuimhin leat an oíche úd
a bhí tusa agus mise
ag bun an chrainn chaorthainn
's an oíche ag cur cuisne,
do cheann ar mo chíocha
is do phíob gheal á seinm? -
is beag a shíleas an oíche úd
go scaoilfeadh ár gcumann.
A chumainn mo chroí istigh,
tar oíche ghar éigin
nuair 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 diom.
Tá an tine gan coigilt
is an solas gan múchadh,
tá an eaochair faoin doras
is tarraing go ciúin í,
tá mháthair 'na codladh
is mise im dhúiseacht,
tá m'fhortún im dhorn
is mé ullamh chun síuil leat.
Remember that 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 could sever.
My heart's beloved -
come some night soon
when my people are sleeping,
and we'll talk together.
I'll put my arms round you
and tell you my story
- O your mild sweet talk
took my sight of Heaven!
The fire is unraked
and the light unquenched.
The key's under the door -
close it softly.
My mother is sleeping
and I am awoke,
my fortune in hand
and ready to go.
