English (machine translation)
Bright dream to pillage through my cloud I
And I was weak turn-in compatible butter,
And I was in my own river valley,
And I was at aeraíocht love my heart,
Had the gall and Irish camthaí
Gentlemen are sharp swords at all,
At birth misfortune saying top together
White's family had now found without delay.
Was similarly short-sees in me that Mary
And to promote her hair grow grass,
A hair coming as the réaltainn
Rising to the top of his foot hers,
Walking the dew caused the grass green
Light and agile as she walked,
A two round breasts neatly on her breast,
His cheeks as chaortha, the pipes should be bright.
For bheannaíos-in for my part in nGaolainn
It is a modest and dignified she replied,
'A flour men, my kills or deinse
As I had not come virgin old,
Two went in humor to make us children
And you be in denouncing the act,
Short lives that I, that leave a Ireland
In my own butter ghóist id'd be way ahead. '
Leagas my hand to her politely
From Stays pursuant to a foot to the top,
All history is against her kinder to ndeinfinn
Her mouth bpógfainn tláth that again,
When I got in me-she had surrendered
My heart to jump as the bird Championships,
By the middle of my thought but I woke stunning
Grief is a déidh of those, I will not months.
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