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

From the Irish of Seán Ó Reagán :

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.

It was they who gave me my Irish

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