Mo Ghile Mear lyrics

Artist  : Sting 
Song : Mo Ghile Mear
 
By seán clárach mac domhnaill



Seal da
rabhas im' mhaighdean shéimh,

's anois im'
bhaintreach chaite thréith,

Mo chéile ag
treabhadh na dtonn go tréan

De bharr na
gcnoc is I n-imigcéin.



'sé mo laoch,
mo ghile mear,

'sé mo chaesar, ghile
mear,

Suan ná séan ní bhfuaireas féin

Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear.



Bímse buan ar buaidhirt gach ló,

Ag caoi
go cruaidh 's ag tuar na ndeór

Mar
scaoileadh uaim an buachaill beó

's ná
ríomhtar tuairisc uaidh, mo bhrón.



Ní labhrann cuach go suairc ar nóin

Is
níl guth gadhair I gcoillte cnó,

Ná maidin
shamhraidh I gcleanntaibh ceoigh

Ó
d'imthigh uaim an buachaill beó.



Marcach uasal uaibhreach óg,

Gas gan
gruaim is suairce snódh,

Glac is
luaimneach, luath I ngleo

Ag teascadh an
tslua 's ag tuargain treon.



Seinntear stair ar chlairsigh cheoil

's
líontair táinte cárt ar bord

Le hinntinn
ard gan chaim, gan cheó

chun saoghal is
sláinte d' fhagháil dom leómhan.



Ghile mear 'sa seal faoi chumha,

's eire
go léir faoi chlócaibh dubha;

Suan ná séan
ní bhfuaireas féin

Ó luaidh I gcéin mo
ghile mear.





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A literal translation by j. mark sugars
1997



Once I was a gentle maiden,

But now I am a spent, worn-out widow,

My
consort strongly plowing the waves

Over the
hills and far away.



He is my hero,
my gallant darling,

He is my caesar, a
gallant darling;

I've found neither rest
nor fortune

Since my gallant darling went
far away.



Every day I am constantly
enduring grief,

Weeping nitterly and
shedding tears,

Because my lively lad has
left me

And no news is told of him -
alas!



The cuckoo does not sing
cheerfully at noon

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

Nor summer
morning in misty glen

Since my lively boy
went away from me.



Noble, proud
young horseman,

Youth without gloom, of
pleasant countenance,

A swift-moving fist,
nimble in a fight,

Slaying the enemy and
smiting the strong.



Let a strain be
played on musical harps,

And let many
quarts be filled on the table,

With high
spirit, without fault, without gloom,

That
my lion may receive long life and health.



Gallant darling for a while under
sorrow,

And ireland completely under black
cloacks,

I have found neither rest nor
fortune

Since my gallant darling went far
away