Mo Bheirt ar Altram
le Aodh Ó Domhnaill
This poem of Aodh's, celebrating his children, was read at his funeral service in Mount Jerome on 29 January 2018. It was first published in 1993 in his third volume of poetry entitled Is Araile.
Given its huge emotional impact at the funeral and the attendance by many with little or no Irish I was asked if I would do a translation.
The effort below is a first attempt. The poem is complex with some word play in Irish which I have not attempted to replicate. I have just tried to keep something of the rythm of the poem.
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Chan fhuil siad ach ar iasacht Mo mhac is m'iníon ghleoite Mar tháinig siad á neamhchead Is d'fhanadar gan iarraidh Faoi gheasa-ghad mo mhóide Go mbéarfainn iad chun scaoilte Gan breathnú ar a gceannaithe Gan meas ar thuismitheoirí Chan fhuil siad ach ar lóistín Mo dhís a bhuail le giall-chlann Is tuigeadh dóibh le mórghean Gur malairt bhroinne a ngin-tigh Is scaipeadar an rún seo le cairde is le mórtas Gur roghnaíodh iad go cúramach Thar chinn a leanbhchomharsan Chan fhuil siad ach ar sealaíocht Mo ruamhhac is mo Nóirín Idir bachlannach a gcéadmham Is tamaill linn ar iall ghearr Idir rialacha a n-oiliúna Is dúchas mar ar póraíodh Idir comhrá caoin in aiméarrthráth Is siúl amach na dóirse Chan fhuil siad ach ar fán uainn Mo Niall is m'iníon órga - Is dual do chác an imeacht sin As altranas nó fuil-theach Ach beireann siúd chun bealaigh leo Le cumha ár gciniúna Grá gearrtha go leathchothrom Idir muidne is taibhsitheoirí Aodh Ó Domhnaill |
My Fostered Pair They've only come on loan to us My son and lovely daughter They've come here lacking their consent But stayed without the asking They come with my firm promise To raise them until grown up Regardless of appearance Or who were their first parents They only came to lodge here My two beloved strangers They were told with lots of loving Another womb had borne them They both boasted this secret To all and sundry proudly That they were chosen carefully Above their fellow children They only came to stay awhile My fair son and my Nóirín From the arms of their first mother To time here on a tight leash With rules for their instruction And instinct from their breeding With friendly conversation Or storming out the doorway But now they're gone aroving My Niall and golden daughter As every youngster has to do Whether raised at home or fostered And finally they leave the nest How sad is now our fate For love is now unequally split Twixt us and parted shadows translation: Pól Ó Duibhir |