English (machine translation)
A flour the virgin freshness aspect,
found fame with the beauty of Ádhamhchlainn,
A behind the bpéarlaí, a resolution of poems,
A dhúblaíos festival welcome;
His countenance as sun early every day,
To extinguish sadness with laughter,
It is my grief without me and you, a sister, ourselves
the fort of Cian Mac Cáinte.
I am crushed in pain without sleep, without the cloud
of your grief, to arm the most beautiful,
is that you're my choice in the provinces of Ireland,
Reason not séanaim death of;
Because of your beauty, a star without smúid, me
was merry for my health,
You will get the amount of flour and berries
In the fort of Cian Mac Cáinte.
A shuaircbhean Pleasant the gcuachfholt pearled,
Glossary me a few moments,
when the nobles, clergy and lay a stunning,
asleep in their white clothes;
northward We'll be far from them both,
the first rays of sun tomorrow,
Not a hazard in itself loneliness gay
San fort of Cian Mac Cáinte.
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