Mo ghile mear - Mary Black

Curfa

'Si mo laoch, mo Ghile Mear

'Si mo Chaesar, Ghile Mear

Suan na sian nm bhfuaireas fiin

O chuaigh in gciin mo Ghile Mear

Bmmse buan ar buairt gach ls

Ag caoi go ctuaidh 's ag tuar na ndeor

Mar scaoileadh uaim an buachaill beo

'S na rmomhtar tuairisc uaidh mo bhrsn

Nm lagnrann cuach go suairc ar nsin

Is nml guth gadhair i gcoillte cns

Na maidin shamhraidh i gcleanntaibh ceoi

O d’imigh uaim an buachaill beo

Marcach uasal uaibhreach sg

Gas gan gruaim is suairce sns

Glac is luaimneach luath i ngleo

Ag teascadh an tslua 's ag tuairgan tria

Seinntear stair ar chlairsigh cheoil

Is liontair tainte cart ar bord

Le hinntinn ard gan chaim gan cheo

Chun saol is slainte d’fhail don leon

Ghile mear 'sa seal faoi chumha

'S Eire go liir faoi chlscaibh dubha

Suan na sian nm bhfuaireas fiin

O luaidh i gciin mo Ghile Mear

Seal da rabhas im’mhaighdean shiimh

'S anois im' bhaintreach chaite thriith

Mo chiile ag treabhadh ne dtonn go trian

De bharr na gcnoc is in imigiin

English Translation (thanks to Marina Antolioni)

He is my hero, my dashing darling

He is my Caesar, dashing darling

I’ve had no rest from forebodings

Since he went far away my darling

Every day I am constantly sad

Weeping bitterly and shedding tears

Because our lively lad has left us

And no news from him is heard alas

The cuckoo sings not pleasantly at noon

And the sound of hounds is not heard in nut-filled woods

Nor summer morning in misty glen

Since he went away from me, my lively boy

Noble, proud young horseman

Warrior unsaddened, of most pleasant countenace

A swift-moving hand, quick in a fight

Slaying the enemy and smiting the strong

Let a strain be played on musical harps

And let many quarts be filled

With high spirit without fault or mist

For life and health to toast my lion

Dashing darling for a while under sorrow

And all Ireland under black cloaks

Rest or pleasure I did not get

Since he went far away my dashing darling

For a while I was a gentle maiden

And now a spent worn-out widow

My spouse ploughing the waves strongly

Over the hills and far away

Curfa

She's my hero, my Quick Boy

She's my Caesar, Ghile Mear

Suan na sian nm bhfuaireas fiin

O my Gile Mear went away

Bmmse permanent on worry every ls

Crying bitterly and predicting tears

As I released the living boy

And don't tell me my report

Nm lagnrann cuckoo lavishly on nsin

Nml is the voice of a dog in cns woods

Summer mornings in misty cliffs

O the living boy has left me

Proud noble rider sg

Stem without gloom and tenderness etc

Take it early in a hurry

Truncating the crowd and predicting tria

History is played on musical harps

It is a tanned cart netting on board

With a high mind without chame without fog

For life and health for the lion

A quick whirlwind in mourning

All of Ireland is covered in black

Suan na sian nm bhfuaireas fiin

O mention in the song of my Ghile Mear

Look at the gentle maidens

And now I'm a worn-out widow of three

My wife plowing the waves to a third

Because of the hills and in imigiin

English Translation (thanks to Marina Antolioni)

He is my hero, my dashing darling

He is my Caesar, dashing darling

I’ve had no rest from forebodings

Since he went far away my darling

Every day I am constantly sad

Weeping bitterly and shedding tears

Because our lively lad has left us

And no news from him is heard alas

The cuckoo sings not pleasantly at noon

And the sound of hounds is not heard in nut-filled woods

Nor summer morning in misty glen

Since he went away from me, my lively boy

Noble, proud young horseman

Unsaddened warrior, of most pleasant countenace

A swift-moving hand, quick in a fight

Slaying the enemy and smiting the strong

Let a strain be played on musical harps

And let many quarts be filled

With high spirit without fault or mist

For life and health to toast my lion

Dashing darling for a while under sorrow

And all Ireland under black cloaks

Rest or pleasure I did not get

Since he went far away my dashing darling

For a while I was a gentle maiden

And now a spent worn-out widow

My spouse plowing the waves strongly

Over the hills and far away