Urnaigh A Bhan Thigreach - Karen Matheson

M’aithair 's mo Dhia, dean Thus' ardion

Mi fhein 's mo naoidhean beagan mhios

Gur gann an t-uisg', 's gur gann an siol

Sinn creuchdach, acrach, brointe, piant'

'Adhlaichte an-diugh mo luaidh

'S nach aithnich mise uaigh seach uaigh

Measg mhiltean a Tigre tha e na shuain

Coinhead Thusa, a Thighearna, oirnn le truas

Sinn a’famachadh le teas na grein'

Nuair dh’eireas i an-aird sna speur

Sinn ga ar meileachadh le fuachd

Meadlian oidhche, 's ar sgeadachadh cho truagh

An tig, a Thigearna, uisge trom

Bheir a-mach toradh bhon talamh lom?

Cum rium mo chreidamh anmad fhein

Na canam 'an-do threig thu mi, mo Dhia?

Cheus riaghaltas eile Criosd air crann

'S tha luchd-breug gar biathadh-sa gu teann

Doirt a-muas do mhaitheas chaoimh, a Dhe

Na leig an t-ole buileachadh gu leir

My Father and my God, make Thou exalted

Myself and my baby a few months

The rain is scarce, and the seed is scarce

We are crippled, hungry, broken, pained '

'Buried today my love

And I do not recognize a grave other than a grave

Among the miles to Tigre he is asleep

Lord, have mercy on us

We're soaking up the sun '

When it rises in the sky

We are being melted by the cold

Meadlian night, and our decoration so poor

Come, Lord, heavy rain

Bring forth fruit from the barren land?

Keep my faith with me

Do I not say that you have forsaken me, my God?

Another government crucified Christ on a cross

And liars are feeding us hard

Pour out your loving-kindness, O God

Do not let the oil oily