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Is minic a smaoiním agus ghním machnamh go domhain in mo chroí,Go bhfuil daoine ins an tír seo nár chuala ariamh trácht ná cur síos Ar an oileán glas aoibhinn atá ina sheasamh go maordha i lár toinn, ’S gurb é ainm na háite, oileán glas Árann na naomh.
Uacht agus oidhreacht atá againn ó aimsir na naomh, Ár gcreideamh ’s ár dteanga nár truaillíodh le haimsir ná aois, An Ghaeilge bhinn bhlasta is gur binne í ná ceolta na sí, Dhá labhairt ag gach mac máthar dhá gcónaíonn in Árainn na naomh.
Is a mhic léinn a chara, muna bhfuil agatsa an Ghaeilge ar do mhian, Is más mian leat barr maise a chur ar theanga bhinn mhilis do thír’, Má tá maoin agat i dtaisce a chothós thú coicís nó mí, Thabharfainn comhairle agus cuireadh dhuit do chuid saoire a chaitheamh in Árainn na naomh.
Beidh fáilte agus féile faoi réir romhat má thagann tú an tslí, Beidh fíorspriod na nGael go fial le fáil ar gach caoi, Ní bheidh ocras ná tart ort, beidh blas na meala ar gach greim, ’S gurb é sláinte na n-easlán seal laethanta a chaitheamh in Árainn na naomh.
Tá na páirceanna bána ann ó Mhárta amach go Féil’ Michíl, Tá na héanlaith go ceolmhar go síoraí ar bharra na gcraobh, Tá an lon dubh is an smólach ag cantan le titim na hoíche, Is macalla ón gcladach ag briseadh na mara ar thír.
Tá na bóithrí i gcomhair taistil inchurtha le aon cheard sa tír, Is más rogha leat muin capaill, an gluaisteán nó seal ag rothaíocht, Níl láib ná poll portaigh ann, níl cnoc ann ná gleannta fraoigh, Ó, is nach beannaithe an áit é, níl tionóisc ar mhuir ná ar thír.
Le grian gheal an tsamhraidh nuair ba fonn leat go ligfeá do scíth, Tá tránna chois cladaigh ann ’s iad plódaithe le daoine as gach tír, Tá chuile shaghas canúint le cloisteáil ó mhaidin go faoithin, Ach sí teanga na Banban an réalt eolais uilig os a gcionn.
Tá fothracha cáiliúla, tithe manaigh agus teampaill na naomh, Tá seanchomharthaí ársa, dúnta, caisleáin is cill, Tá an spéir ghorm álainn gan deannach ná smúit os do chionn, Is nach meata atá tú mara dtrialla tú ar Árainn na naomh.
An deoraí a thug cúl dhó go dubhach deorach i dtosach a shaoil, Is a chuaigh trasna na mara le súil is go saothródh sé maoin, Nuair a bhí seal blianta caite is é ciaptha ’s é cráite ag an saol, Ba é a mhian filleadh abhaile lena chnámha a bheith sínte ann i gcill.
Tá spóirt is caitheamh aimsire ann a thóigfeadh an ceo de do chroí, Is ba giorra leat ráithe ann ná lá in aon cheard den tír, Nuair a bheas do chuid saoire ar fad thart ann, tiocfaidh tocht agus brón ar do chroí, ’S beidh na deora do do dhalladh an lá a bhfágfaidh tú Árainn na naomh.
I often think and ghním think deep in my heart, That many people in this country have not heard never mention descriptions On the green island paradise is standing maordha in the middle of the waves, and that the name of the place, the island green Riding the saints.
Our will and heritage from the time of the saints, our beliefs and our language has not been corrupted or old weather, Irish gable tasty that music from the cliff than she, Two talk to each son a mother of two living in the holy Aran.
Is a student friend, if not by you the language of your desire, is if you want to enhance the appearance of language melodious sweet country ', If you have property deposited to chothós you weeks or months, I would advice and made ??thee your holiday in Connemara for the saints.
Will welcome festival and subject before you if you come this way, will fíorspriod Gaelic generously found in all respects, not be hungry or thirsty, the taste of honey on each bite, and that the health of the sick spell days Aran spend the saints.
Fields are white since March that Feil 'Michael, are the birds musically forever bar the branches, The blackbird thrush by cantan nightfall, is an echo from the shore break the sea to the land.
The road, for travel comparable to any craft in the country, is optional horseback, car or while cycling, not mud or hole bogs, there is a hill than valleys of heather, Oh, that blessed the place is, there is an accident at sea than on land.
Sun bright summer when most anxious you ligfeá relax, beaches are inshore and are crowded with people from every country, has every kind of dialect can be heard from morning until night, But a language of Banban the guiding star all over next.
Famous ruins, houses and temples of the holy monks, is ancient Monuments, forts, castles cell, is the beautiful blue sky without dust or dust over your head, are not you cowardly you dtrialla Aran sea of saints.
The exile brought back twice to depression tearful at the beginning of his life, is joined across the sea with a view to pursue it property, When turn spent years is haunted and tormented by life, was a desire to return home his bones to be extended there in a cell.
A sports recreation there thóigfeadh the fog of your heart, is been less you quarter than days in a craft of the country, When will your holiday all around there, will mattress and sorrow of your heart, And the blinded by tears to the day you leave the holy Aran.
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