Cascade

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  1. An Eala Bhan – The White Swan
  2. Milleadh Nam Braidhrean
  3. An t-Iarla Diurach
  4. Eilean A’Cheo

 

An Eala Bhan

Gur duilich leam mar tha mi
‘S mo chridhe ‘n sas aig bron
Bhon an uair a dh’fhag mi
Beanntan ard a’ cheo
Gleanntannan a’mhanrain
Nan loch, nam bagh ‘s nan srom
‘S an eala bhan tha tamh ann
Gach la air ‘m bheil mi ‘n toir.

A Mhagaidh na bi tursach
A ruin, ged gheibhinn bas-
Co am fear am measg an t-sluaigh
A mhaireas buan gu brath?
Chan eil sinn uile ach air chuairt
Mar dhithein buaile fas
Bheir siantannan na blianna sios
‘S nach tog a’ ghrian an aird.

Tha ‘n talamh leir mun cuairt dhiom
‘Na mheallan suas ‘s na neoil;
Aig na ‘shells a’ bualadh –
Cha leir dhomh bhuam le ceo:
Gun chlaisneachd aig mo chluasan
Le fuaim a’ ghunna mhoir;
Ach ged tha ‘n uair seo cruaidh orm
Tha mo smuaintean air NicLeoid.

Air m’ uilinn anns na truinnsichean
Tha m’ inntinn ort, a ghraidh;
Nam chadal bidh mi a’ bruadar ort
Cha dualach dhomh bhith slan;
Tha m’ aigne air a lionadh
Le cianalas cho lan
‘S a’ghruag a dh’fhas cho ruadh orm
A nis air thuar bhith ban

Oidhche mhath leat fhein, a ruin
Nad leabaidh chubhraidh bhlath;
Cadal samhach air a chul
Do dhusgadh sunndach slan
Tha mise ‘n seo ‘s an truinnsidh fhuar
‘S nam chluasan fuaim bhais
Gun duil ri faighinn as le buaidh –
Tha ‘n cuan cho buan ri shnamh.

The White Swan

Sad I consider my condition
With my heart engaged with sorrow
From the very time that I left
The high bens of the mist
The little glens of dallaince
Of the lochans, the bays and the forelands
And the white swan dwelling there
Whom I daily pursue.

Maggie, don’t be sad
Love, if I should die –

Who among men
Endures eternally?
We are all only on a journey
Like flowers in the deserted cattle fold
That the year’s wind and rain will bring down
And that the sun cannot raise.

All the ground around me
Is like hail in the heavens;
With the shells exploding –
I am blinded by smoke:
My ears are deafened
By the roar of the cannon;
But despite the savagery of the moment
My thoughts are on the girl called MacLeod.

Crouched in the trenches
My mind is fixed on you, love;
In sleep I dream of you
I am not fated to survive;
My spirit is filled
With a surfeit of longing
And my hair once so auburn
Is now almost white.

Goodnight to you, love
In your warm, sweet-smelling bed;
May you have peaceful sleep and afterwards
May you waken healthy and in good spirits
I am here in the cold trench
With the clamour of death in my ears
With no hope of returning victorious –
The ocean is too wide to swim.

Milleadh Nam Braithrean

I ri dhiu o ro hu o
I ri dhiu o ro eile
I ri dhiu o ro leannain
Se bu mhath leam bhith reidh riut

Bha am brathair a b’fhaisg ort
Dha do choimhead ‘s tu nad eiginn
‘S ann a direadh na bruthaich
‘S ann a rug iad air m’eudail.

‘Sann a’ direadh na bruthaich
‘Sann a rug iad air m’eudail
‘Sann a direadh a’ gharraidh
Leig mo ghradh a cheud eibhe

Thuirt am brathair bu shine,
“Leig na sginean gu cheile”
Thuirt am brathair a b’oige
“Chan i choir, ach ‘s i’n eucoir”

Tha mo mhollachd aig mo phiuthair
Gruagach bhuidh’ an fhuilt ghie-ghil
‘S i a dh’innis do m’bhraithrean
Thu bhith air airigh a Cheitinn.

What I Would Like Is To Be At Peace With You

The brother nearest to you
Was watching you in your agony
It was going up the brae
That they caught up with my darling

It was when climbing the garden wall
That my love gave the first shout
The oldest brother said
‘Engrage the knives’
The youngest brother said

My curses on my sister
Golden girl of the white fair hair
It was she told my brothers.

An T-Iarla Diurach

Ma’s ann ‘gam mhealladh, a ghaoil, a bha thu,
Ma’s ann ‘gam mhealladh as deigh do gheallaidh,
‘Se luaidh do mholaidh ni mi gu brath,
Ma’s ann ‘gam mhealladh, a ghaoil, a bha thu.

Righ! gur mise tha gu tursach,
Gaol an iarla ‘ga mo chiurradh,
Tha na deoir a’sior-ruith o m’ shuilean
‘S mo chridhe bruite le guin do ghraidh.

Bha mi raoir leat ‘na mo bhruadar
Thall an Diura nam beann fuara,
Bha do phogan mar bhiolair uaine –
Ach dh’fhalbh am bruadar is dh’fhan an cradh.

Thig, a ghaoil, agus duin mo shuilean
‘S a’ chiste-chaoil far nach dean mi dusgadh,
Cuir a sios mi an duslach Diurach,
Oir ‘s ann ‘s an uir a ni mise tamh.

The Bens of Jura

If deceiving me, o love, thou wert;
If deceiving me despite thy vow;
Yet chant thy praise I ever will,
Tho’ deceiving me, o love, thou wert.

O King! I am the sorrowful one,
And the love of the Earl a-hurting me;
The tears are ever running from mine eyes,
And my heart is bruised with the sting of thy love.

Last night I was with thee in my dream,
Across in Jura of the cold bens;
Thy kisses were like the green water-cresses
– Fled the dream – remained the pain.

Come, o love, and close my eyes
In the narrow kirst where I shall never awake;
Lay me down under earth from Jura –
In the grave alone is there rest for me.

Eilean A Cheo

Ged tha mo cheann air liathadh,
Le deuchainnean is bron,
Is grian mo leth-cheud bliadhna
Air ciaradh fo na neoil;
Tha m’ aigne air an lionadh
Le iarrtas tha ro mhor,
A dh’fhaicinn Eilean Sgiathach
Na siantanan ‘s a’ cheo.

Tha corr ‘s da fhichead bliadhna
Bho’n thriall mi uait gam’ dheoin.
‘S a chuir mi sios mo lion
Ann am meadhon baile mhoir;
Is ged a fhuair mi iasgair
A lion mo thaigh le stor,
Bu chuimhneachail mi riamh ort
‘S bu mhiann leam bhi ‘nad choir.

Ach co aig a bheil cluasan
No cridh’ tha gluasad beo,
Nach seinneadh leam an duan seo
Mu’n truaigh’ a thainig oirnn?

Na milltean a chaidh fhuadach
Thar chuain gun chuid, ‘s gun choir,
Tha miann an cridh’ ‘s an smuaintean
Air Eilean uain’ a’ Cheo.

Nis, cuimhnichibh ur cruadal,
Is cumaibh suas ur srol;
Gu’n teid an roth mu’n cuairt duibh
Le neart is cruas nan dorn;
Gum bi bhur crodh air buailtean
‘S gach tuathanach air doigh;
‘S na Sas’nnaich air am fuadach
A Eilean uain’ a’ Cheo.

The Misty Isle (Skye)

Although my head has greyed
With forgetfulness and sadness,
And the sun of my fifty years
Has darkened under the clouds;
My thoughts are filled
With a great desire,
To see the Isle of Skye
The elements and the mist.

It is more than forty years
Since I left you willingly,
And I put down my roots
In the middle of the city;
And although I married a fisherman
Who filled my house with wealth,
You are forever in my mind
And I long to be in your shelter.

But who has ears,
Or a heart which beats with life
Who will not sing this song with me
About the hardship which has befallen us?
The thousands who were cleared
Deprived of their belongings and their rights,
The desires of their hearts and their thoughts
Are on the “Green Isle of the Mist”.

Now remember your hardship,
And keep your banner flying;
For the wheel (of change) will not go round for you
Without strength and hardness of fist;
Your cattle will be in their folds,
And every farmer will be happy –
And the English would be ousted
From the “Green Isle of the Mist”.