Cumha an fhile

The poet Thought
Home | Tags: Sean-Nós | Submitted by Norascanlon
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Irish

English (machine translation)

The cumhaidhiúil below the edge of the sea,
is a bleak life and I own,
Without consolation heart without chat buddy,
would lift depressed me and 'extinguish the sorrow,
Go deep into the night I very much mhearadh,
' Want to hear at music birds,
but my grief is just the bar tumulus,
and under constant loneliness Glens air.

There propose cuckoo, white flowers there,
come the summer there as 'formerly,
went the smaolach, left the swan,
is on every branch smoladh came,
my friends relative to supposedly' asleep,
In the Old Town, alas,
a weak cold yours is left empty,
as unbridled horse plowing all.

I see boats 'engaging the bar,
I do not see people out swimming,
I do not see Sunday slóite spring,
details about Bháinsigh as usual,
went out of the sport'd Town,
died the old crew was asleep,
my grief' after them, the loss is not great,
them being separated from us as.

Love my heart these days long,
'I spent below under the shore,
Seal playing with my dog,
Seal playing with my love,
Seal or grief was the bank of the waterfall,
' Watch salmon on the tsnámh,
a King of the Elements, that would not last unfortunate
Life us joy forever.

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