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INFO - MO GHILE MEAR

Mo Ghile Mear

de Mary Black / an -

VERSURI - MO GHILE MEAR

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 dimigh 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 dfhail 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 immhaighdean 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)







Chorus



He is my hero, my dashing darling



He is my caesar, dashing darling.



Ive 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.

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