I'm posting it in honour of the day, & in memory of my good friend
Peter Hutcheson, who would have been 46 this May 1, & who was one of
those good & generous souls who helped me understand & appreciate
poetry in all its many forms.
Cétemain
Gan ainm (possibly 7th century)
Early Irish Lyrics, Eighth to Twelfth Century
edited by Gerard Murphy
Oxford:
Clarendon Press,
1956
May-Day - translation
by
Kuno Meyer
Selections from Ancient Irish Poetry
edited & translated by Kuno Meyer
London:
Constable & Company Ltd,
1911
Cétemain, cain cucht
rée rosaír rann
canait luin laíd lain
día laí grían gaí ngann.
Gairid cuí chrúaid den
is fo-chen sam saír
suidid sine serb
i mbi cerb caill chraíb.
Cerbaid sam súaill sruth
saigid graig lúath linn
lethaid fota fraích
for-beir folt fann finn.
Fúpair sceith scell scíach
im-reith réid rían rith
cuirithir sál súan
tuigithir bláth bith.
Berait beich (bec nert)
bert bonn bochtai bláith
berid slabrai slíab
feraid saidbir sáith.
Seinnid caille céol
con-greinn séol síd slán
síatair denn do dinn
dé do loch linn lán.
Summer time, season supreme
Splendid is colour then.
Blackbirds sing a full lay
If there be a slender shaft of day.
The dust-coloured cuckoo calls aloud:
Welcome splendid summer!
The bitterness of bad weather is past,
The boughs of the wood are a thicket.
Panic startles the heart of the deer,
The smooth sea runs apace -
Season when ocean sinks asleep,
Blossom covers the world.
Bees with puny strength carry
A goodly burden, the harvest of blossoms;
Up the mountainside, kine take with them mud
The ant makes a rich meal.
The harp of the forest sounds music,
The sail gathers - perfect peace;
Colour has settled on every height,
Haze on every lake of full waters.
The corncrake, a strenuous bard, discourses,
The lofty cold waterfall sings
A welcome to the warm pool -
The talk of the rushes has come.
Light swallows dart aloft,
Loud melody encircles the hill,
The soft rich mast buds,
The stuttering quagmire prattles.
The peat bog is as the raven’s coat
The loud cuckoo bids welcome,
The speckled fish leaps -
Strong is the bond of the swift warrior.
Man flourishes, the maiden buds
In her fair strong pride.
Perfect each forest from top to ground
Perfect each great stately plain.
Delightful is the summer’s splendour,
Rough winter has gone:
Every fruitful wood shines white,
A joyous peace is summer.
A flock of birds settles
In the midst of meadows,
The green field rustles
Wherein is a brawling white stream.
A wild longing is on you to race horses,
The ranked host is ranged around:
A bright shaft has been shot into the land,
So that the water-flag is gold beneath it.
A timorous, tiny, persistent little fellow
Sings at the top of his voice,
The lark sings clear tidings:
Surpassing summer-time of delicate hues.
