| YOUR POEM REMINDED OF A SIMILAR, BUT A SLIGHTLY MORE LENGTHY EFFORT
BY THE INIMITABLE PERCY FRENCH. I'VE BEEN AROUND LONG ENOUGH FOR
MOST OF MY SCARS TO HAVE HEALED,AND THIS IS ONE OF THE FEW POEMS
THAT EVER "CHOKED ME UP" WHEN I READ IT. IT GOES AS FOLLOWS:
A wee slip drawin' water,
The ould man at the plough,
No grown-up son or daughter,
That's the way we're farming now.
"No work and little pleasure"
Was the cry before they wint,
Now they're gettin' both full measure,
So I ought to be contint.
Great wages men is givin'
In the land beyant the say,
But 'tis lonely--lonely livin'
Whin the childher is away.
Och the baby in the cradle,
Blue eyes and curlin' hair,
God knows I'd give a gra'dle
To have little Pether there;
No doubt he'd find it funny
Lyin' here upon me arm,
Him--that's earnin'the good money,
On a Californy farm.
Six pounds it was or sivin
He sint last quarter day,
But 'tis lonely--lonely livin'
Whin the childher is away.
God is good--no better,
And the Divil might be worse,
Each month there comes a letther
Bringing something for the purse.
And the ould man's heart rejoices
When I read they're doin' fine,
But it's oh! to hear their voices,
And to feel their hands in mine.
To see the cattle driven'
And the young ones makin' hay,
'Tis a lonely land to live in
When the childher is away.
Whin the shadows do be fallin'
On the ould man there an' me,
'Tis hard to keep from callin'
"Come in, childher, to yer tea!"
I can almost hear them comin'
Mary, Kate and little Con--
Och! but I'm the foolish woman,
Sure they're all grown up an' gone.
That our sins may be forgiven,
An' not wan go asthray,
I doubt I'd stay in Heaven
If them childher was away.
-Percy French
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| > <<< Note 111.0 by FNYFS::AUNGIER "Rene El Gringo sin casa, Irish Rebel" >>>
> -< A BEAUTIFUL IRISH POEM >-
I would like to add my congratulations to the author of .0 for a lovely
poem. However, I noticed a lack of "fadas" (accents). I sent it to a fluent
Irish speaker I know and she put them in as well as making a few other
corrections. Here is the corrected version.
Craig
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Craig - � scr�obh seo faoi dheifir!
The actual translation is already word-perfect, the only
thing wrong is "handle of the door", which should read
"door-knocker". Actually the translation is better than original
on that score, if you think about it. I have often put my hand on
door-handle sticky with God-knows-what the child may have had in
her hand. But on a sticky door-knocker, never! They are out of
a child's reach. I am endeavouring to finish a few more things
before I go on holiday, so - plea from the heart - don't tell
anyone I cast an eye over the contents of the attahced. All too
often, an acknowledgment like that brings a spate of similar
requests (usually to vet very dull items, unlike your "Subh"
poem, which happens to be one of my all-time favourites!)
Marion
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T� an-�thas orm an d�n seo a chur anseo.
I am very happy to include this poem here.
T� an d�n seo ag cur s�os ar ph�iste. B�onn fearg ar
thuismitheoir nuair a dh�anann p�iste rud as an sl�,
cuirim i gc�s rud �igin a bhriseadh. N� fada a mhaireann
r� na h�ige, �fach. Is r�ghearr go mb�onn na p�ist� ina
ndaoine f�sta agus iad ar shi�l � theach na muintire. Ar an
�bhar sin, ba cheart d�inn a bheith foighneach le p�iste.
This poem talks about children. We sometimes get annoyed
when children do things like breaking something in the
house but children are not with us for long as the poem says
and because of that we have to be a little patient with them
SUBH MILIS
==========
Bh� subh milis ar bhoschrann an dorais
ach mh�ch m� an corra� ionam a d'�irigh
mar smaoinigh ar an l� a bheas an boschrann glan
agus an l�mh bheag ar iarraidh.
I will translate it literally first as it is more beautiful
the way we Irish express ourselves in Irish than in English.
There was jam on the door-knocker
but I quenched the anger that arose within me
when I thought of the day that the door-knocker will be clean
and the little hand missing.
It means that a child dirtied the door-knocker with
jam and the parent felt angry but said nothing, instead the
parent thinks of how quickly the child will grow up and leave
the home and the door-knocker will be clean with no children
around.
It is a sad and happy poem. Sad because the parent can feel
the loneliness that will arise in the home when the child is
grown up. Happy because the child brings joy and happiness to
the home and give a good feeling in the home.
I cannot remember more off by heart but there are very many such
poems which are rich, sad, happy, and give joy to me anyway
at the beauty of the Irish language and all that is Irish.
Sl�n agus beannacht.
Go n-�ir� an b�thar leat agus feicfimid th� an bhliain seo chugainn.
Ren� Aungier
(An Gaelach ag obair san Fhrainc. N�l m�r�n seans agam mo chuid
Gaeilge a chleachtadh anseo, ach t� m� ag l�amh anois mar n� maith
liom mo chuid Gaeilge a chailli�int.)
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