Tuesday, April 12, 2011

M'uaigneas don Rinn




My thanks to Seán O Réagáin for donating this wonderful poem to the Blog.




Because of you folks out there, who only know 'the other language' my friend Tommy Mooney from Ardmore has translated it for your pleasure.I have added some photos which I took, it should be remembered that Ring was not like this when seán was growing up there.



M'uaigneas don Rinn

Cad a dheanfaimíd feasta gan oidhreacht
Tá deireadh ár nGaeltacht 'nár lár
Níl trácht ar ár muintir ná a dteanga
'Gus is cuma le haoinne a mbás.

Níl trácht ar ár gcomharsain ná ár ngaolta
Iad san a thug duinn ár ngrás
An cuimhin libh mar a bhí sé fadó
Ár nGaedhealuinn, an Rinn agus a mblas.


B'iontach liom laetha m'óige
Nuair a bhí mé im gharsún gan chrá
Réagán 'gus mé féin ar an gCarn
Ag baint aitinn chun leaba na mbó.
Ár laetha fé spéartha an Earraigh
Ár n'oícheannta cois tine ag comhrá
Ár gcomharsain 'nár measc go minic
Is mé ag eisteacht lena rabhadar a rá.

Iad san a mhúin dom mo Ghaedhealuinn
Deug, Peig, Jacky 'gus John
Pate, Mary agus a thuileadh nach cuimhin liom
Mo bhuíochas dóibh uile go bráth.

Tá cuairteoirí fé mhaoin go fairsing
Ní thuigeann siad teanga ná blas
Ach tuigeann siad aoibhneas ár gceantar
Is na sléibhte atá rompu amach.

An gcuimhníonn sibh riamh ar bhúr muintir
Iad san atá ins na flaithis fé shéan
Cad a bheadh acu le rá ar ár gceantar
A mbuíochas nó a ndéistean dá'r saol.

Seán O Réagáin



What will we do now for our birthright
The end of our Gaeltacht is nigh
There's no talk of our people or language
At it's death there'll be never a sigh.
Who talks now of neighbours and cousins
Those who graced us with loving intent
Remember how 'twas in those old times
Speaking Irish with that old Ring accent
The days of my childhood were wondrous
A boy with no sorrow or woe
Réagán and myself on the Carn
Cutting furze for a bed for the cow.
Our days under blue skies of springtime
Our nights at the fireside we'd talk
Our neighbours oft crowded among us
We respected and loved the old folk.
So to Deug, Peg and Jackie and John,
Patie, Mary, and more I've forgotten
My thanks,to them all , now they've gone.
Some people of great wealth are coming
The language they often don't know
But they love this beautiful Gaeltacht
High mountains and shoreline below.
Think ye now of your blessed forefathers
Now what would they say of our Gaeltacht
In heaven, there can be no doubt
Is it thanks or disgust they would shout.
 
Strangers of wealth are among you
Your customs they surely don’t claim
They grudgingly accept the culture
But do nothing to propagate same
 
Those who were blessed to be here before us
Who gave all that they had, yes, their lives
Do you think they would honour our stewardship
Or weep and lament our demise.























Seán



























 




































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