Marks ar mhapa. Nach shin a thosaigh an trioblóid? Rud nach bhfuil ann go dtarraingíonn daoine líne ar mhapa nó go gcuireann siad brat sa talamh áit éicinnt?
Saint. Feall. Impireacht. Goid.
Neart le foghlaim agaibh, Marks & Spencer.
#1 Ná déan seo
Anois, seo moladh daoibh a bhaineann le stair, tíreolaíocht, agus saoirse.
Bhí alt sna meáin faoi fhoclóir nua don Ghàidhlig. Is maith sin. Cheapfá go mbeadh áthas ar dhaoine faoi ach tá ciníochas fós láidir sa tír is seo is seo is seo mar a bhí cuid den chaint faoi agus alt faoi anseo. GRMA agus tapadh leat, Marconatrix.
Tá grá ag daoine don Ghàidhlig. In am do chúrsa Duolingo a bheith ann. Is glaoigh Scottish ar an gcúrsa le do thoil! Deacrachtaí le Gaelic (dul amú). Fág Scots le Burns.
Iontach ar fad seo a fheiceáil ar Twitter inné
agus i bhfad níos mó. Timpeall 7,000 acu. Ag trendáil ar bharr Twitter. Ardaíonn sin mo chroí.
Is aoibheann linn anseo i gCathair na nAingeal ár dturas go Gàidhlig. Teanga fíorálainn í.
A Scotland without Scottish (Gàidhlig) is like a sky without stars.
Amhránaí: Grace Willis
Foisithe ar dtús ar TGLurgan, Nollaig, 2017
Liricí
Ag canadh liom go binn, dhom réiteach fhéin sa gcarr
Singing sweetly to myself, as I do my makeup up in the car.
An imeall togha arís. B’fhearr leat fhéin an lár.
The edge is fine again. You prefer the middle.
Ba mhaith an rud bhí againne go dtí gur imigh tú.
It was a good thing we had until you left.
Na bréaga lofa aríst, an cuma ar d’aghaidh
The rotten lies again, the look on your face.
Na seairc mhóra le fiacla. Oh, an dtuigeann tú?
The great sharks with teeth. Oh, do you understand?
Is tú ag rá liom go mbeadh muide choíche i ngrá
And you telling me we’d be forever in love.
A.
Ach níl muid i ngrá, a stór. Ar scanraíodh thú?
But aren’t we in love, darling. Were you scared?
Nuair a phóg muid ag damhsa ar an bpríomhúrlar?
When we kissed on the dance floor?
B.
Ach cloisim fuaim i mo cheann,
But I hear a sound in my head,
Fuaim úr-nua, i mo cheann.
A brand new sound in my head.
Ach feicfidh mé, d’aghaidh go luath, in aon áit ar domhan.
But I’ll be seeing you, your face soon, anywhere on earth.
Ach feicfidh mé, d’aghaidh go luath, síos bóthar cam.
But I’ll be seeing you, your face soon, down a crooked road.
C.
An solas glas seo, ag lasadh an bhealaigh.
This green light lighting the way.
A stóirín beidh mé ar ais go luath, le go scaoilfí leo.
Darling I’ll be back soon, so they can go.
An solas glas seo, ag lasadh an bhealaigh
This green light lighting the way.
Ó ba bhreá liom, bheith leat go luath, ach ní bheidh go deo.
Oh I’d love it, to be with you soon, but I won’t ever.
An solas glas seo, ag lasadh an bhealaigh
This green light lighting the way.
Scaití ag dúiseacht liom, i seomra aduain
Sometimes as I wake in a strange room,
Mé ag cogarnaíl, an chathair ag canadh ar ais anuas
Whispering, the city is singing back down.
Na ráflaí is iad le fiacla Oh, an dtuigeann tú?
The rumours are those with teeth. Oh, do you understand?
A.
B.
C.
An solas glas seo, ag lasadh an bhealaigh X 5
Fill-iù ORO Hù ò
(Níl mé lánchinnte faoi na liricí anseo. Fós ag foghlaim).
Fill-iù oro hù o, Bu tu mo chruinneag bhòidheach. Fill-iù oro hù o.
Fill-you oroh hoo o, You are my lovely lassie. Fill-you oroh hoo o
1. Dheidhinn dhan a’ ghealaidh leat nan geallach tu mo phòsadh.
I would go to the moon with you if you promised to marry me.
2. Dheidhinn leat dha na rionnagan nam bitheadh do chuideachd deònach.
I would go to the stars with you if your family were willing.
3. Dheidhinn leat a dh’Èirinn gu fèill nam ban òga.
I would go to Ireland with you to the fair of young women.
4. Irish: Rachainn go dtí na réalta dá dtiocfá liomsa
Or Scottish: Dheidhinn dha na rionnagan nam boidh do chuideachd deonach
I would go to the stars if you would go with me.
5 Irish: Rachainn leat anoir ‘s aniar gan each gan araí gan bróga
Or Scottish: Dheidhinn leat an ear ‘s an iar gun each gun arian, gun bhotuinn
I would go with you east and west without a horse, without a bridle, without shoes (boots)
6. Mise ?
7. Ag eistachd ris na h-iarlachan ‘gad iarraidh gus do phosadh
Listening to the earls wanting you to marry
8. Chuala mi na ministearan a’ bruidhinn ar do bhóichead
I heard the ministers talking of your beauty.
9. (Dheidhinn leat a dh’Uibhist far am buidhicheadh an t-eòrna
I would go to Uist with you where the barley grows yellow)
Song #2
Chorus
O cò bheir mi leam air an luing Èireannaich, O cò bheir mi leam?
Oh who will I bring on the Irish ship?
‘Se mi ghradh, bheir mi leam air an luing Èireannaich,
Cò eile? Iain bheir mi leam air an luing Èireannaich
Cò eile? Naoise bheir mi leam air an luing Èireannaich
Cò eile? Seanie bheir mi leam air an luing Èireannaich
Cò eile? Alec bheir mi leam air an luing Èireannaich
Cò eile? Steve bheir mi leam air an luing Èireannaich
Cò eile? Seamaí bheir mi leam air an luing Èireannaich
Cò eile? Julie bheir mi leam air an luing Èireannaich
Cò eile? Muireann bheir mi leam air an luing Èireannaich
Cò eile? Niamh bheir mi leam air an luing Èireannaich
Buíochas le limlom ☺
Chonaic mé taispeántas san Getty Villa le déanaí faoi Phluais Plato. Daoine mar phríosúnaigh ag breathnú ar bhalla ag ceapadh do bhfuil siad ag breathnú ar an saol mar atá ach níl siad ach ag breathnú ar scáileanna. Téann duine amach agus feiceann sé an domhan i gceart is tagann sé ar ais le rá leo cad atá amuigh ansin i ndáiríre ach tá daoine ann is fanann siad ina bpríosúnaigh go deo. Níor mhaith leo an fhírinne, ná brí, ná an saol mar atá i ndáiríre a fheiceáil.
Smaoinigh mé ar sin is mé ag breathnú ar an scannán Song of Granite. Chuaigh Seosamh Ó hÉanaí amach sa saol mór is chonaic sé a bhí ann. D’aithin sé scaití go raibh glór nach raibh ceolmhar ann a chuir mearbhall ar dhaoine is fuair sé suaimhneas sa cheol a d’fhoghlaim sé sa bhaile amuigh faoin aer nó i gcisteanach.
Smaoinigh mé ar an bpluais nuair a d’éist mé le The Streets Have No Name le U2. Tá ainmneacha ar na sráideanna againn. Ach níl brí leo. I mBÁC tá sráideanna nó bóithre ann ar nós Cappagh, Ratoath, Ballyboggan, Finglas, Glasnevin, Ballymun, Kilmore, Malahide, Raheny, Kilbarrack, Drumcondra, Clontarf, Kylemore, Ballyfermot, Inchicore, Terenure, Clonskeagh, Rathfarnham, Dundrum. Brí ar bith leo san leagan seo.
Sin atá fágtha againne, na príosúnaigh a chreideann nach bhfuil tada mícheart le brí a bhaint ó ainm áite. Ní thuigimid cad is brí lenár dtír féin. Muid caillte sa dorchadas is ní aithnímid sin. Ní Béarla ná Gaeilge atá againn ach dul amú. Teanga gan brí. Sin a d’fhág siad againn.
Is tharla 1916 is tháinig saoirse, dúradh linn. Níor tháinig ach daoirse eile. Is rinneamar dearmad ar an mbrí is d’fhanamar sa dorchadas. Leads, seo 2018: 125 bliain ó bunaíodh Conradh na Gaeilge. Mar a dúirt De hÍde fadó: DeAnglicize.
Ah it was going to the Fair in Dingle, one fine morning last July,
When going down the road before me, a red-haired girl I chanced to spy.
Will I stepped up to her, says I “Young Lady, now me donkey, he will carry two.”
She looked at me, her eyes a-twinkle And her cheeks they were a rosy hue.
“Will thank you kindly, sir, “she answered then she tosed her bright red hair
“Will seeing as how you’ve got your donkey, I’ll ride with you to the Dingle Faire.”
Ah but when we reached the fair in Dingle, I took her hand for to say goodbye.
And a tinker man moved up close beside me, And hit me right in my left eye.
Keep your hands off Red Haired Mary, Her and I are to be wed.
We’re seein’ the priest this very morning, And tonight we’ll lie in the marriage bed.
Ah now I was feelin kinda peevish, and my poor old eye felt sad and sore,
so I tapped him gently with my hobnails And he flew back through Tim Murphy’s door.
Keep your hands off Red Haired Mary, Her and I are to be wed.
We’re seein’ the priest this very morning, And tonight we’ll lie in the marriage bed.
Then a policeman he came round the corner, Told me I had broke the law.
But the donkey kicked him in the ankle, And he fell down and smashed his jaw.
Keep your hands off Red Haired Mary, her and I are to be wed.
We’re seein’ the priest this very morning, And tonight we’ll lie in the marriage bed.
But the red haired girl, she kept on ‘smiling, “Ah young man, I’ll come with you,” she said.
We’ll forget the priest this very morning, Ah tonight we’ll sleep in Murphy’s shed.
Keep your hands off Red Haired Mary, Her and I are to be wed.
We’re seein’ the priest this very morning, And tonight we’ll lie in the marriage bed.
Seo mar a d’inis Joe Heaney an scéal:
What I’m trying to do tonight, in the space I have, is to give you a bit of everything. And the next thing I’m going to do — maybe some of you heard about it, I don’t know — is called The American Wake. Now it’s nothing to do, directly, it’s nothing to do with America. But long ago, when people were going to America and emigrating, their parents knew they’d never see that particular person in this life again.
And the night before they left, the woman or the man who was leaving — It wasn’t so easy then to come home as it is now. They settled down more or less when they went to America, and they got married, and their parents died, meantime they could never see them. But anyway, the man or the woman who was going away visited all the old people in the village, invited them to have a dance that night in the house. And those that weren’t able to go, they gave them a bottle of something as a remembrance.
And they invited the people — Now I’m talking about a time when there was no musical instruments. And of course, long ago, musical instruments were barred, because some of the clergy reckoned that if you played music you were a druid or something — something pagan about you. So maybe it was a good thing, too. But anyway — there was somebody, always, who lilted a tune, and somebody danced to that tune.
Now, in the old country houses they had what was known as a half-door. And sometimes when somebody was dancing on a concrete kitchen floor they lifted off the half-door, and danced on top of the half-door. Now two of the tunes they used to play was a reel, My Love She’s in America, and a hornpipe, Off to California. This was during the night; and in the morning, of course, the song — the lament — was sung by always — nearly always — the woman. But this is somebody lilting a tune for somebody dancing. My Love She’s in America went something like this:
That’s My Love She’s in America. Now Off to California:
Now, the dancing was over, and in the morning, usually the mother, put her hands around whoever was going away, pointing out to that person that ‘Even though you’re going away, remember, you’ll get no money thrown on the pavements. Where you’re going you’ll see somebody rich; but remember, behind that person there may be twenty people who’s very poor. And when you’re walking the streets at night, remember, stop and listen, because as sure as anything the voice you’ll hear will be mine, calling you back; because you know I’ll always love you’.
And the song they used to sing was A Stór Mo Chroí.
A stór mo chroí, when you’re far away from the home you’ll soon be leaving
And it’s many a time by night and day your heart will be sorely grieving.
Though the stranger’s land might be rich and fair, and riches and treasure golden
You’ll pine, I know, for the long long ago and the love that’s never olden.
A stór mo chroí, in the stranger’s land there is plenty of wealth and wearing
Whilst gems adorn the rich and the grand there are faces with hunger tearing.
Though the road is dreary and hard to tread, the lights of their city may blind you
You’ll turn, a stór, to Erin’s shore and the ones you left behind you.
A stór mo chroí, when the evening sun over the mountain and meadow is falling
Won’t you turn away from the throng and listen and maybe you’ll hear me calling.
The voice that you’ll hear will be surely mine of somebody’s speedy returning
A rún, a rún, will you come back soon to the one who will always love you.
That’s the American Wake.
Leagan eile
Bliain an taca so d’imigh uaim rún mo chroí,
A year ago my heart’s secret left me;
Ní thiocfaidh sé abhaile go dtabharfaidh sé cúrsaí an tsaoil.
He won’t come home until he’s been round the world.
Nuair a chífead é rithfead le fuinneamh ró-ard ‘na chomhair,
When I see him, I’ll run with great energy to him,
Agus clúdód le mil é, ‘s é Jimmy mo mhíle stór.
And I’ll cover him with honey – he’s Jimmy, my thousand treasures.
Bíonn m’athair ‘s mo mháthair ag bearradh ‘s ag bruíon liom féin:
My father and mother are annoying and arguing with me;
Táim giobaithe, piocaithe, ciapaithe, cráite i mo shaol;
I’m pecked, picked-at, tormented and grieved for my life;
Thugas taithneamh don duine úd ab fhinne ‘s ab áille snó
I gave my liking to the man with the brightest, loveliest appearance,
Ach chuaigh sé ar bhord loinge, ‘sé Jimmy mo mhíle stór.
But he went on shipboard – he’s Jimmy, my thousand treasures.
Raghad chun coille is caithfead ann deireadh mo shaoil,
I’ll go to the woods and end my days there,
San áit ná beidh éinne, ag éisteacht le ceol na n-éan;
Where there’s no-one, listening to the song of the birds.
Fé bhun an chrainn chaorthainn, mar a bhfásann ann féar go leor,
Beneath the rowan tree, where plenty of grass grows,
Ag tabhairt taithneamh don duine úd, ‘sé Jimmy mo mhíle stór.
Giving pleasure to that man, Jimmy my thousand treasures.
ancroiait 
And hear the lonesome chapel bell.
God save their souls and mind them well,
Tomás and Seán Conneely.
2.
Yesterday at half past four
They pushed their currach from the shore.
One took the net while one took the oar,
The two fishermen, Conneelys.
3.
From Connor’s fort and from Synge’s chair
Towards Inis Mor and Inis Iarr.
They scour the sea in silent prayer
As they go searching for their neighbours.
4.
Dia daoibh, beirt iascaire breá
God be with you two fine fishermen