ROFLMAO!!! If ONLY that was the truth. My late mother (God rest her beautiful soul) would have married off my sorry sassy Irish butt by the time I was 17 just so I would stop her auburn hair from greying! *L*
But alas, (me being picky, and all!) remain 30, single and childless. In fact, I'm a kind of an enigma in this day and age! *L*
Ah, but mo mhile gra, how can be sure she's not attempting to marry you off from beyond now? ;)
In any event, it should be clear to whom I refer to in my profile. Whom it requires a tactical nuclear weapon to separate me from. I can get away with saying this now because I've just returned from my sister's birthday dinner and 5 bottles of wine were consumed between 4 people. ;)
And so to mo mhile gra, I recite in both Gaelic and English, the words of Peadar Ó Doirnín:
| A phlúr na maighdean is úire gné thug clú le scéimh ón Ádhamhchlainn, A chúl na bpéarlaí, a rún na héigse, dhúblíos féile 's fáilte, a ghnúis mar ghréin i dtús gach lae ghil mhúcha léan léan le gáire, 's é mo chumhaidh gan mé 's tú, a shiúr, linn féin sa dún sin Chéin mhic Cáinte. |
Most beautiful of maidens with the fairest complexion, who has surpassed all others in beauty, O girl with the pearly-headed hair, beloved of poets, who increases generosity and welcome, your face, like the sun at the beginning of a bright day, quenches sorrow with a laugh, alas my girl that we are not alone together in the fort of Cian Mac Cáinte. |
| Táim brúite i bpéin, gan suan gan néal, de do chumhaidhse, a ghéag is áille, 's gur tú mo roghain i gcúighibh Éireann, cúis nach séanaim ás de; dá siúlfá a réalt gan smúid, liom féin ba súgach saor ár sláinte— gheobhair plúr is méad is cnuasach craobh sa dún sin Chéin mhic Cáinte. |
I am in pain and unable to sleep because I am pining for you, most beautiful one, and you are my choice from all over Ireland, I do not deny it at all; O faultless star, if you would only walk away with me, fair and free would our state be — you'll have the best and plenty and fruit in the fort of Cian Mac Cáinte. |
| Cluinfir uaill na ngadhar ar luas i ndéidh Bhriain luaimnigh bearnaigh mhásaigh is fuaim guth béilbhinn cuach is smaolach go suairc ar ghéaga in altaibh; i bhfuarlinn tséimh chífir slua-bhuíon éisc ag ruagadh a chéile ar snámh ann, 's an cuan go léir dhuit uait igcéin ó nua-chnoc Chéin mhic Cáinte. |
You'll hear the dogs bark as they follow the strong running hare, and the sweet-voiced singing of cuckoo and thrush merrily on branches in the glens; in a smooth cold lake you'd see a host of fish as they chase each other in swimming and the sea in front of you, far away from the fresh hill of Cian Mac Cáinte. |
| A rún mo chléibh, nach mar súd ab fhearr dhuit tús do shaoil a chaitheamh liom?— 's ní i gclúid faoi léan ag túirscín bréan i gcionn túirne 's péire cardaí; gheobar ciúl na dtéad le lúth na méar do do dhúscadh 's dréachta grá fós — níl dún faoin ngréin chomh súgach aerach le hÚrchnoc Chéin mhic Cáinte. |
O my sweetheart, would you not like To spend the beginning of your life with me like that? — and not pine in a hovel with a stinking boor, spinning and carding wool. You'll have harp-music played with swift fingers to wake you and love songs — there is no fort as happy and full of fun as the fresh hill of Cian Mac Cáinte. |
| A shuaircbhean tséimh na gcuachfholt péarlach, gluais liom féin ar ball beag, tráth is buailte cléir is tuataí i néal 'na suan faoi éadaí bána; ó thuaidh go mbéam i bhfad uathu araon teacht nua-chruth gréine amárach, gan ghuais le chéile in uaigneas aerach san uaimh sin Chéin mhic Cáinte. |
Gentle happy woman of the curling, pearly hair, come with me soon, while clergy and people are fast asleep under white bedclothes; let's be off to the north away from them all when the sun's new form rises tomorrow; we'll be far from danger in happy solitude in the hollow of Cian Mac Cáinte. |
Regards, Ivan