Shy one, shy one,

File: William Butler Yeats Cumadóir: Rebecca Clarke

Cúthail, cúthail Cúthail, cúthail Cúthail í mo stór I solas na tine Lei féin go deo. Iompraíonn sí isteach na gréithe Go néata á leagan síos Chuig oileáinín san uisce A raghainnse lem’ ghéis. Iompraíonn sí isteach na coinnle Is tá mar bheadh ‘na lá, Cúthail sa doras Is cúthail sa scáil; Is cúthail mar choinín Cúthail is lách. Ar oileán léi san uisce A d’fhanfainn go brách.

Shy one, shy one  Shy one, shy one, Shy one of my heart, She moves in the firelight Pensively apart. She carries in the dishes, And lays them in a row. To an isle in the water With her would I go. She carries in the candles, And lights the curtained room, Shy in the doorway And shy in the gloom; And shy as a rabbit, Helpful and shy. To an isle in the water, With her would I fly.

Blate yin, blate yin Blate yin, blate yin, Blate yin o ma hert, Muivin i the firelicht Pensefu an apairt. She feshes in the dishes, An liggs thaim in a raw. Tae yon isle i the watter Wi her a'd fleet awa. She carries in the caunles, An lichts the curtained derk, Blate i the door-sole An blate i the mirk; An blate as a mappie, Helpfou an bleet. Tae yon isle i the watter Wi her wid a fleet. Leagan Béarla na hAlban: John McDonald

Yeats: An Cat agus an Ghealach

Yeats

The Stare’s Nest by my Window

The bees build in the crevices
Of loosening masonry, and there
The mother birds bring grubs and flies.
My wall is loosening; honey-bees,
Come build in the empty house of the stare.

We are closed in, and the key is turned
On our uncertainty; somewhere
A man is killed, or a house burned.
Yet no clear fact to be discerned:
Come build in the empty house of the stare.

A barricade of stone or of wood;
Some fourteen days of civil war:
Last night they trundled down the road
That dead young soldier in his blood:
Come build in the empty house of the stare.

We had fed the heart on fantasies,
The heart's grown brutal from the fare,
More substance in our enmities
Than in our love; O honey-bees,
Come build in the empty house of the stare.
 

W B Yeats 

 

Nead na Druide Cois M’fhuinneoige

Beacha ag tógáil i scoilteacha
Na saoirseachta scaoilte, is siod í
Máthair an áil le cruimheanna is cuileoga.
Tá an balla ag éirí scaoilte; a bheacha meala
Tagaigí is tógaigí in áras folamh na druide.

Táimid teanntaithe, tá an eochair casta
Ar ár neamhchinnteacht, áit éigin
Fear á lámhach, nó teach ina lasracha.
Is gan fíric ghlé ná léargas:
Tagaigí is tógaigí in áras folamh na druide.

Baracáid cloch nó adhmaid;
Coicís de chogadh cathartha:
Aréir iompraíodh an saighdiúir óg marbh
Síos an bóthar, é féin is a chuid fola:
Tagaigí is tógaigí in áras folamh na druide.

Chothaíomar ár gcroí ar aislingí,
Cothú a d’fhág ár gcroí ar nós na brúide,
Is substaintiúla é ár naimhdeas
Ná ár ngrá: Ó, a bheacha meala
Tagaigí is tógaigí in áras folamh na druide.

Ar an lá seo 13 Meitheamh

	Ar an lá seo 13 Meitheamh, 1865, rugadh W B Yeats.
Is féidir dráma leis, Tairseach an Rí, a léamh anseo. Tá bailiúchán dánta leis aistrithe go Gaeilge faoin teideal Byzantium. Cló Iar-Chonnacht a d'fhoilsigh: