Some of the translations I am unsure of - no one person can lay a claim to the only interpretation of what is very archaic poetry. I am open to other interpretations, and hope some others will eventually pop up.
Wherever possible, I used the older forms of Irish (prior to the "reforms" of the 1950s), since these often have clues to the real meanings. Some of the words may still need diacritical marks. I haven't quite gotten them finished.
Mo Ghile Mear
Seal da rabhas im' mhaighdean shéimh,'S anois im' bhaintreach chaite thréith,Mo chéile ag treabhadh na dtonn go tréanDe bharr na gcnoc is i n-imigcéin.
(For a while I was a gentle maiden {lit.: "in my state of being a maiden"}And now a spent worn-out widow My spouse ploughing the waves strongly Over the hills and far away)
'Sé mo laoch, mo Ghile Mear, 'Sé mo Chaesar {Shaesar}, Ghile Mear, Suan ná séan ní bhfuaireas féin {alt.; Ní bhfuaireas féin aon tsuan ar séan} Ó chuaigh i gcéin mo Ghile Mear.
(He is my hero, my dashing darling He is my Caesar, dashing darling. I've had no rest from forebodings Since far away went my dashing darling. )
Bímse buan ar buaidhirt gach ló, {" ló " - dialectical poetic form of "latha / La" - day}Ag caoi go cruaidh 's ag tuar na ndeórMar scaoileadh uainn an buachaill beó'S ná ríomhtar tuairisc uaidh, mo bhrón.
(Each day I am constantly sad Weeping bitterly and shedding tears Because our lively lad has left us And no news from him is heard, my sorrow!)
Ní labhrann cuach go suairc ar nóinIs níl guth gadhair i gcoillte cnó,Ná maidin shamhraidh i ngleanntaibh ceoigh (leoigh) Ó d'imthigh uainn an buachaill beó.
(The cuckoo sings not pleasantly {lit; "affably"} at noon And the voice of hounds is heard not in nut-filled woods, Nor summer morning in misty glen Since he went away from us, the lively boy.)
(Alternate):
Ni h-aoibhinn {haoibhinn} cuach ba shuairc ar neoinTaid fior-chaoin uaisle ar uathadh spóirtTaid saoithe is suadha i mbuairt 's i mbrónÓ scaoileadh uainn an buachaill beo
({the} pleasant cuckoo is not singing affably at noonT'is they are truly {affable, gentle}, noble, on solitary sport {also pleasure} They are good, generous {men/warriors/scholars}, and cultured {learned}, it {is a} sorrow and a pity.{Both are actually words meaning deep sorrow} Since departed from us the lively boy.)
{Note: uathadh can mean "solitary" or "slaughtering" - here, paired with "sport", perhaps; "hunting" ?}
This alternate verse seems to me to be the union of two disparate verses - the metaphors don't seem to hang together properly, nor do they seem to fit.
Níor éirigh Phoebus féin ar cóir Ar chaoin-chneas {chaomhneas} ré tá daol-bhrat bróin {bhróin} Tá saobhadh ar spéir is spéirling mhórChun {sleibhe / sléibhte} i gcéin mar d'éalaigh {or; d'éaluig / ealas} an leon
No more is rising Phoebus {Apollo} himself, in truth {i.e.; The sun is no longer rising}In companionship {with the} moon {he} is {in} a mourning suit of sorrowTis confusion in {lit.; on} {the} sky {heavens} and great stormsUntil in it is seen, like a swan, the lion.
{Perhaps a metaphor for Charles Edward in a ship, the white sails being the "swan." - or poss.; "Until (the} mountain sees like (his?) escape"?}
Níl séis go suairc ar chrua-chruit cheoil,Tá an éigse i ngruaim gan uaim 'na mbeol; Táid beathaithe {béithe} buan ar buaidhirt {buairt} gach ló, Ó théarnaigh uainn an buachaill beo.
(Not a delight the pleasant {hard- or possibly bent ?} harp of music T'is the satirist {is} gloomy, without "poetic diction" * They are in constant sadness each daySince the escape from us of the lively lad)
* {line 2 of this verse is more literally; "{poetic} alliteration {esp. of the important last 2 lines, the "ceangal" or binding used by the old bards} )
Is glas a shúil mhear, mhúirneach, mhodhúilMar leagadh an drúchta ar chuimhais an rois Tá Mars 's Cúipid dlúth i gcómhar {gcóir}i bpearsain úir 's i ngnúis mo stóir
Tis {a} green-eyed darling,with eyes full of love, mild-manneredLike melting {of} the dew on {the} {covering or face of} the roseTis Mars and Cupid {in} close cooperation a new person, and it {in} the visage {face} of my treasure
{The poet seems to mean that Mars and Cupid cooperated on making Charles Edward, a new type of person personifying both war and love, and / or those traits meet in his features.}
Is cas a chul 's is cursach coir Is dlaitheach {dlathach} dlúith 's is búcladh bórrIs feachach fionn ar lonnradh an óir Ó bhaitheas {bhathas} úr go com mo stóir
Tis {cas a chul - a "difficult case", "foot behind" or "slender foot"?} and a just causeTis {battlefield or ruin} (swift or ashes} and t'is {ringlets or buckles} {great, haughty}Tis {feachach - firm step or a spade} fair on plundering the gold{"O" or "Since"} {"new life" - a health?} {go com - equally ?} my treasure
Another toughie! This seems to represent a typical bardic set of alternatives or possibly comparatives - possible takes:
Tis a difficult case and a just causeTis a swift battle{field} and great {or "haughty", i.e. noble ?} bucklesTis a firm step fair on plundering the goldO new life equally to my treasure
He could equally be saying things like "swift ruin". Obviously, some difficult choices here. Other interpretations would work. Is cosúil é le hAonghus Óg, Le Lughaidh mac Chéin na mbéimeann mór, Le Cúraoi ard mac Dáire an óir, Taoiseach Eireann tréan ar {an} tóir
(T'is "like-eye" he with Angus Og (i.e.; he resembles Angus Og, a Celtic god)With Lughaidh mac Cein of the great blows With Cu Raoi, high son of Derry of the Gold Leader of Erin, brave in the pursuit.)
(Lughaidh, Cu Raoi, and the rest below are legendary Celtic heros and demi-gods)
Le Conall Ceárnach bheárnadh póirt, Le Fearghas fiúntacht fionn mac Róigh, Le Conchubhar cáidh mhac Náis na nós, Taoiseach aoibhinn Chraoibhe an cheoil.
With Conal Cernach in the fortress gap With Fergus, fair, worthy son of RoighWith Conor, modest son of Nessa of the traditions {Conor is the king of Ulster in the Táin}Leader, pleasant tree of the music {i.e.; a sponsor of bards and musicians} Ní mhaoidhfead féin cé hé mo stór, Tá insint scéil 'na dhéidh go leor, Ach guím chun Aoin-Mhic Dé na gcomhacht Go dtige mo laoch gan b{h}aoghal beo.
I am not boasting {cé - "who"?} {hé - ?} my treasureTis telling a story of the {wish, concern} enoughBut a conspiracy until {the} almighty One Son of God {To or through} {the "thick of the fight" or "home"} my young hero without danger {to his ?} life
(A few more tough choices here! Still wrestling with this one as well)
Marcach uasal uaibhreach óg,Gas gan gruaim is suairce snó{dh},Glac is luaimneach, luath i ngleoAg teascadh an t-sluaigh {t-slóigh} 's ag tuargain treon.
(Noble, proud young horseman Warrior unsaddened, of most pleasant countenace A swift-moving hand, quick in a fight, Slaying the enemy host and smiting the strong.)
(Ach) Seinntear stáir ar chláirsigh cheoil's líontair táinte cárt ar bórd,Le hinntinn ard gan cháim, gan cheóChun (chuir) saoighal {saoil} is sláinte d' fhagháil dom leómhan.
(Let a strain be played on musical harps And let many quarts be filled With high spirit without fault or mist For life and health to toast my lion. )
Cúrfá 2:Ghile mear 'sa seal faoi chumha,'s Eire go léir faoi chlócaibh dubha;Suan ná séan ní bhfuaireas féinÓ luaidh i gcéin mo Ghile Mear.
(Dashing darling for a while under sorrow And all Ireland under black cloaks Rest or pleasure I did not get Since he went far away, my dashing darling. )
Cúrfá (alternate):
'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear, 'Sé mo Shaesar, gile mear; Mo chruatán féin a luadh tré léan Mar chuaigh i gcéin mo ghile mear !
(He is my hero, my dashing darling He is my Caesar, dashing darling. My {chruatan} {mention, milling} {through} {follow}As far away went my dashing darling)
Also found this sheet music, but unsure of whose version it is - I strongly recommend going with Micheál O Domhnaill's excellent version. (On his Relativity album of the same name and on the compilation, "The Celts Will Rise Again".
(I am still working on the music.)
(The Sting version, whatever can be said for his talent otherwise, is bloody awful, completely untrue to the piece, the period, or the Gaelic, though I do commend him somewhat for even attempting the piece. He certainly popularized it, anyway. I just wish he had troubled himself to do a better job of it.)
