Gairm ó Dhia

GOTTES RUF

Gott ruft mich
Ich sage, schrei mich nicht an
Gott schreit mich an
Ich kann es nicht hören
Ich höre es nicht
Und ob es zu laut ist
das kann ich nicht wissen
Das weiβ ich nicht
Drum bin ich ohne Ruf
Und gehe taub durch diese Welt
Mit offenen Ohren
in die nichts hineinweht
Eine Leere, die ich spazieren führe
durch dieses Leben
Ein Eimer ohne Boden

D.H. OTTN

Gairm ó Dhia

Glaonn Dia orm
Arsa mise, ná béic orm
Béiceann Dia orm
Nílim in ann é a chlos
Ní chloisim é
Má tá sé ró-ard
Ní bheidh fhios agam
Níl fhios agam
Táim gan ghairm dá réir sin
Agus imím liom im’ bhodhrán
Mo chluasa ar oscailt agam
Is faic ag séideadh tríothu
Folús a thugaim liom ag siúl
Tríd  an saol seo
Buicéad gan tóin

D.H. OTTN
https://www.sargasso-magazine.com/issues/ii-2017/

Mantra Rúnda na Misteach

Om Puurnnam-Adah Puurnnam-Idam Puurnnaat-Purnnam-Udacyate Puurnnasya Puurnnam-Aadaaya Puurnnam-Eva-Avashissyate |

OM, is Purna (lán den Chomhfhios Diaga)

É Sin (An Domhan Seachtrach):

Is Purna leis é Seo (An Domhan Inmheánach)

As Purna a eascraíonn Purna

A Naofacht, an Pápa/ His Holiness, the Pope

A Naofacht, an Pápa Vúdú Houngwe Towakon Guedehoungu

Beannaigh mé
lena bhfuil agat
fuil an choiligh!
táimse ullamh
agus beannaigh mo charasa, Derry,
a bhfuil sólás de dhíth air
Áiméan
 

His Holiness, Voodo Pope Houngwe Towakon Guedehoungu

Bless me,
with whatever you’ve got
the blood of a cockerel!
I am ready
and bless my friend, Derry,
who is in need of comfort
Amen

Ar Thraein

Bhí jab agam, is bhí cailín
Bhí rud éigin agam, mister, i mo shaol
Chailleas mo jab sa chlós adhmaid faraor
Shearg ár ngrá, bhí sé dian
Oibrím anois ag ní gluaisteán
Agus uisce de shíor ón spéir
Is nach mothaíonn tú mar phaisinéir leat féin ar thraein.

Ar sise, ‘Jó, slán leat go fóill
An rud ‘bhí ann, níl sé eadrainn níos mó’
Bhíos-sa fágtha ‘na diaidh im’ chadhan
Cheannaigh sí ticéad ar an Central Line
Is mé fá shuan, gabhann feadaíl i mo chluasa
Mothaím a póg ina ceo ón spéir
Is mothaímse i mo phaisinéir liom féin ar thraein

Aréir do chual’ do ghuth
Tú ag caoineadh, caoineadh, tú leat féin go deo,
Á rá nár shearg riamh do ghrá
Is tú ag feitheamh liom, a stór
Chuireas orm seaicéad, ritheas tríd an gcoill
Ritheas is mheasas go bpléascfainn faoi dhó
Is faoin ngealach, ár dteach ag lonrú
B’eo mé tríd an gclós, tríd an doras do réab,
Mo cheann lán de phian, an staighre liom suas,
An seomra dubh, an leaba folamh
Ansin chuala fead ag geonaíl
Ar mo ghlúine do thit, chrom mo cheann is chaoin.

Ag luascadh oird a bhímse leis an iarnród
Trascheangail á leagan, is uisce ón spéir
Is nach mothaíonn tú mar phaisinéir leat féin ar thraein.

Downbound Train

I had a job, I had a girl
I had something going mister in this world
I got laid off down at the lumber yard
Our love went bad, times got hard
Now I work down at the carwash
Where all it ever does is rain
Don't you feel like you're a rider on a downbound train

She just said "Joe I gotta go
We had it once we ain't got it any more"
She packed her bags left me behind
She bought a ticket on the Central Line
Nights as I sleep, I hear that whistle whining
I feel her kiss in the misty rain
And I feel like I'm a rider on a downbound train

Last night I heard your voice
You were crying, crying, you were so alone
You said your love had never died
You were waiting for me at home
Put on my jacket, I ran through the woods
I ran till I thought my chest would explode
There in the clearing, beyond the highway
In the moonlight, our wedding house shone
I rushed through the yard, I burst through the front door
My head pounding hard, up the stairs I climbed
The room was dark, our bed was empty
Then I heard that long whistle whine
And I dropped to my knees, hung my head and cried

Now I swing a sledge hammer on a railroad gang
Knocking down them cross ties, working in the rain
Now don't it feel like you're a rider on a downbound train

Nebraska

Chonac í ar an bhfaiche tosaigh
A baitín ’na roithleán
Chuamar beirt, ag marcaíocht, sir
Is fuair deichniúr gan pheaca bás.

D’fhágamarna Lincoln, Nebraska
Agus gunna teasctha ar mo ghlúin
Go dtí na drochthailte, Wyoming,
Dheineas slad agus mór-mharú.

Níl aon chathú orm ná brón
As an méid ‘tá curtha i gcrích
Ar a laghad ar feadh tamaillín
Le bheith fíor bhí sé lán de spraoi.

An bhreith a tugadh ná go rabhamar ciontach
Is dúirt an breitheamh go bhfaighinnse bás
Meán oíche i stóras príosúin
Is strapaí leathair orm á bhfásc’.

Sheriff, ag nóiméad na fírinne
Mo mhuineál snaptha siar
Le do thoil bíodh m’ainnir ghleoite
Ar mo dhá ghlúin bhocht’ ina suí.
Ní don saol seo mé dar leosan
San fholús ollmhór beidh m’anamsa ar ball:
Cén fáth a ndearna mé gach a ndearna mé
Bhuel, sir, is suarach an saol é ‘ndeireadh thiar thall.

Nebraska

I saw her standing on her front lawn
Just twirling her baton
Me and her went for a ride, sir
And ten innocent people died

From the town of Lincoln, Nebraska
With a sawed off .410 on my lap
Through to the badlands of Wyoming
I killed everything in my path

I can't say that I'm sorry
For the things that we done
At least for a little while, sir
Me and her we had us some fun

Now the jury brought in a guilty verdict
And the judge he sentenced me to death
Midnight in a prison storeroom
With leather straps across my chest

Sheriff, when the man pulls that switch, sir
And snaps my poor head back
You make sure my pretty baby
Is sitting right there on my lap

They declared me unfit to live
Said into that great void my soul'd be hurled
They wanted to know why I did what I did
Well sir I guess there's just a meanness in this world

Saolaíodh chun Reatha Sinn (Born to Run)

Rith an lae sea bíonn an t-allas te linn is an bhrionglóid Mheiriceánach ar strae,
Istoíche bímse in árais na glóire, meaisín auto da fé
Ag léim as cás ar Highway 9, cróm-roth, gás go béal is ag seasamh amach thar lín’
Whoah, béibí, san áit seo stróictear cnámh ón droim, tá an bás chugainn, tá nó féinmharú, ní mór dúinn éalú is sinn óg,
Is bacaigh sinn, is saolaíodh chun reatha sinn,
Ó sea, a stór

Wendy, le do thoil, is mian liom bheith mór leat, is do chuid físeanna a chosaint,
Cuir do chosa thar an gciumhais veilbhit, do lámha figh thar mo chuid inneall,
Le chéile d’fhéadfaimis éaló, chun reatha gan stad, béibí,  gan filleadh go deo,
Whoah, tar is siúil liom amuigh ar an sreang
Mar, béibí, níl ionam ach tiománaí uaigneach, ach tá an mothúchán sin uaim,
’Fháil amach an fiáin atá grá, béibí, bhfuil sé fíor mar atá á rá,
Ó an léireofá –
Anois!

Lastall den Phálás, ladrainn ag béicíl síos an búlbhard,
Cailíní ag cíoradh gruaige i scáthán, is buachaillí mar Gheingis Cán,
An pháirc siamsaíochta ag éirí go lom, páistí gróigthe ar an trá, i gceobhrán,
Is mian liom bás ‘fháil leat, Wendy, ar an tsráid anocht i bpóg a mhairfidh go brách.
Huth!

Aon, dó, trí, ceathair!

Laochra briste ar an mbealach mór, seans eile acu bheith i gcumhacht,
Gach éinne amuigh ar an raon anocht, ach féach thart níl aon éalú
Le chéile, Wendy, beimid beo ar an uaigneas, beidh grá agam duit le gealtachas m’anama
Whoa, lá éigin, n’fheadar cathain,
Táimid chun a bheith san áit sin is mian linn a bheith ann, agus siúl ann faoin ngréin
Go dtí sinn, bacaigh sinn, béib, saolaíodh chun reatha sinn
Á, stóirín, bacaigh sinn, saolaíodh chun reatha sinn
Seo leat, Wendy, bacaigh sinn, béib, saolaíodh chun reatha sinn

Whoah whoah whoah-whoah
Hmm hmm hmm-hmm
Ó-ó ó whoah whoah whoah-whoah
Whoah ó ó ó whoah
Hmm hmm hmm-hmm
Whoah whoah whoah-whoah
Whoah whoah whoah-whoah
Whoah ó ó ó whoah

Durme Durme Mi Andjeliko

Codail codail, a aingilín liom

Codail codail, a aingilín liom
 a mhaicín bhídeach de shliocht do thír’
Créatúirín beag de Shíón
Taithí níl agat ar phian.

Cén fáth m’ainm ag teastáil uait
Cén fáth nach gcanaim duit
Á, ghearradar mo chuid sciathán
Is chuir mo ghlór ina thost.
Á, an domhan seo lán de bhrón.


Codail codail, a aingilín liom
a mhaicín bhídeach de shliocht do thír’
Créatúirín beag de Shíón
Taithí níl agat ar phian.

Cén fáth m’ainm ag teastáil uait
Cén fáth nach gcanaim duit
Á, ghearradar mo chuid sciathán
Is chuir mo ghlór ina thost.
Á, an domhan seo lán de bhrón.

Codail, codail
Créatúirín beag de Shíón.

Durme Durme Mi Andjeliko

Durme durme mi andjeliko
Ijiko chico de tu nasion
Kriatura de Tsion
No konoses la dolor

Porke nombre a me demandas
Porke no kanto yo
Ah, kortaron las mis alas
I mi boz amudesio
Ah, el mundo de dolor

Durme durme mi andjeliko
Ijiko chico de tu nasion
Kriatura de Tsion
No konoses la dolor

Porke no me demandas
Porke no kanto yo
Ah, kortaron las mis alas
I mi boz amudesio
Ah, el mundo de dolor

Durme, durme...
Kriatura de Tsion

TÍR TAIRNGIRE: TIONSCADAL BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN THE PROMISED LAND: THE BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN PROJECT

Tá cáil i bhfad agus i ngearr ar Bruce Springsteen. Tá clú ar a bheoléirithe paiseanta agus is cumadóir amhrán thar na bearta é. Baineann sé leas as ceol rithim agus gormacha, snagcheol, luath-racanról, ceol tíre agus soul. Cruthaíonn a chuid liricí rómánsacha fileata íomhánna dúinn de shaol na cosmhuintire, tírdhreacha uirbeacha New Jersey agus réigiúin láir Mheiriceá.

Tabharfaidh TÍR TAIRNGIRE:TIONSCADAL BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN ar aistear sinn, ar imram, go dtí 'tír tairngire' an amhránaí chun na físeanna aige a bhlaiseadh ó albaim ar nós Darkness on the Edge of Town, Nebraska agus The Ghost of Tom Joad. Is iad na hoirfidigh atá i mbun an aistir seo ná Liam Ó Maonlaí, guth agus pianó; Steve Cooney ar ghiotár, Nick Roth ar shacs; Robbie Perry i mbun cnaguirlisí agus Trevor Hutchinson ar dhord. Gabriel Rosenstock  a thraschruthaigh na liricí. Margaret Lonergan a theilgfidh a cuid íomhánna agus na focail ar scáileán. Arna léiriú ag IMRAM Féile Litríochta Gaeilge.

Bruce Springsteen is legendary. Famed for his passionate live performances, he is a songwriter par excellence. His work taps into rhythm and blues, jazz, early rock 'n' roll, folk and soul. His romantic, poetic lyrics evoke the lives of working people, the urban landscapes of New Jersey, and the heartlands of contemporary America.

THE PROMISED LAND: THE BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN PROJECT takes us on a voyage to the 'promised land' of Springsteen's vision, drawing on albums such as Darkness on the Edge of Town, Nebraska and The Ghost of Tom Joad. The line-up features Liam Ó Maonlaí on vocals and piano; Steve Cooney on guitar; Nick Roth on saxophone; Robbie Perry on percussion and Trevor Hutchinson on bass. The lyrics have been translated into Irish by Gabriel Rosenstock. Screen projections by Margaret Lonergan. Produced by IMRAM Irish Literature Festival.


DÉ CEADAOIN 11 DEIREADH FÓMHAIR
Wednesday 11 October 8.00pm
PAVILION THEATRE, Dún Laoghaire
Cead isteach/admission: €22/20
Booking (01) 231 2929
or www.paviliontheatre.ie

Bímis Dlúth (Cneas re Cneas)

Bímis Dlúth (Cneas re Cneas)

Táim ag faire ort ‘feadh i bhfad
Cén t-am ab fhearr cén áit, dar leat
Sinn ag teannadh linn ‘nois gan stad
Agus d’fhéadfaimis seans a bheith cneas re cneas

Ní fios an dtiocfaidh an seans arís
Níl craic ar bith amuigh ansin gan a chríoch
Ní fios an dtiocfaidh an seans arís
Níl craic ar bith nach n-imeoidh i ndísc
Bímis dlúth, dlúth le chéile, [a] mhian.

Sea táimid éagsúil, tá a ghrá
Ní hionann é ár leagan siúil
Is stair a bhfuil laistiar dínn caithfear a rá
Yé, cuir focal i mo chluas.

Ní fios an dtiocfaidh an seans arís
Níl craic ar bith amuigh ansin gan a chríoch
Ní fios an dtiocfaidh an seans arís
Níl craic ar bith nach n-imeoidh i ndísc
Bímis dlúth, dlúth le chéile, [a] mhian.

Dú, dú dú dúú dú dú dú dúú
Dú, dú dú dúú dú dú dú du dúú
Dú, dú dú dúú dú dú dú dúú
Bímis dlúth
Dú, dú dú dúú dú dú dú dúú
Dú, dú dú dúú dú dú dú dúú
Bímis dlúth . . .

Bhuel tá caint go leor mar gheall ort
Lig dóibh labhairt, níl éinne eile ach tú
Tá ballaí go leor le leagan fós
D’fhéadfaimisne iad a leagan, ceann ar cheann.

Ní fios an dtiocfaidh an seans arís
Níl craic ar bith amuigh ansin gan a chríoch
Ní fios an dtiocfaidh an seans arís
Níl craic ar bith nach n-imeoidh i ndísc
Bímis dlúth, dlúth le chéile, [a] mhian.

Let's Be Friends (Skin to Skin)

I been watchin' you a long time
Trying to figure out where and when
We been moving down that same line
Time is now maybe we could get skin to skin

Don't know when this chance might come again
Good times got a way of comin' to an end
Don't know when this chance might come again
Good times got a way of slippin' a-way
Let's be friends, baby let's be friends

I know we're different you and me
Got a different way of walkin'
The time has come to let the past be history
Yeah if we could just start talkin'

Don't know when this chance might come again
Good things got a way of comin' to an end
Don't know when this chance might come again
Good things got a way of slippin' away
Let's be friends, baby let's be friends

Do, do do doo do do do doo
Do, do do doo do do do do doo
Do, do do doo do do do doo
Let's be friends
Do, do do doo do do do doo
Do, do do doo do do do doo
Let's be friends

There's a lot of talk going 'round you
Let them talk you know you're the only one
There's a lot of walls need tearing down
Together we could take them down one by one

Don't know when this chance might come again
Good times got a way of comin' to an end
Don't know when this chance might come again
Good times got a way of slippin' away
Let's be friends, baby let's be friends

Deich nDán Zen le Ramesh Bhagvant Veluskar

1.
Braonta báistí
Ata
Ar theagmhaigh an spéir leo
Seo ag rince anuas iad
Báite
Ar nós
Páistí dána


2.
Eitleog
Bheag bhídeach
Ag an mbuaic ghorm
An fhirmimint
Ar cóimheá aici ar a cabhail
Ar nós faic na fríde
Eitleog



3.
Catsúil
Á leá i gcatsúil
Cumhracht uaithi
Ar nós gáire . . .
Ar dhlaoithe deataigh
Ceangailte le gungrúnna*
Ina gcaise
Slogtha ag raga ornáideach

 

[* bráisléad rúitín ceolmhar ar rinceoir]

5.
An chéad uair
A theagmhaíos leat
Scuabadh
Chun siúil
Mé
Ar
Nós
Súnámaí



7.
Déanann grágaíl
An phréacháin cá cá
An dorchadas
A scoilteadh
Roimh mhaidneachan


8.
Mhuirnigh
An spéirling mé
Istigh is amuigh
Agus
Ní raibh póir díom
Gan brí nua



9
Néalta ag spraoi
Agus ina gceann
Is ina gceann is ina gceann
Bhuail duilleoga na foraoise
A gcuid ciombal clingeach


11.
Ise
Nathair
Chomh haoibhinn
Le nóta
Taan*
Na fliúite
Casta
Meisciúil
Ríméadach
Mistiúil
 

[* teicníc amhránaíochta]

21.
Braon drúchta
Tréshoilseach
Athraonta isteach
Im mhóimintse


22.
D’fhiafraigh an spéir di féin,
“An
Beith
Mé
Nó
Neamhbheith?


 

Bunteanga: Concáinis

[ó Bhéarla Augusto Pinto]

Breis faoin bhfile:

Atlantic City

Bhuel phléascadar an ‘chicken man’ in Philly aréir
Phléascadar an tigh, arú
Ar an gclárchosán tá scata trodairí ‘fáil réidh
Tá an mafia go léir ‘g ullmhú.

Is tá trioblóid ag teacht chugainn ó stróinséirí
Is an D.A. ag lorg sóláis
Beidh ina chíor thuathail cheart ar an bpromanáid
An coimisiún cearrbhachais chun a chac a dhéanamh ina dhrárs.

Sea bhuel cailltear gach ní, béibí, gan aon bhréag
Ach cá bhfios nach dtagann ar ais gach ní ón éag
Cuir do smideadh ort, do chuid gruaige fite
Is buail liom anocht in Atlantic City.

Bhuel do fuaireas post is chuireas pinginí i leataobh
Ach tá fiacha orm nach mbeadh ar fhear iontaoibh’
Tharraingíos amach a raibh sa Central Trust
Is cheannaíos dhá thicéad ar an Coast City Bus.

Bhuel cailltear gach ní, béibí, gan aon bhréag
Ach cá bhfios nach dtagann ar ais gach ní ón éag
Cuir do smideadh ort, do chuid gruaige fite
Is buail liom anocht in Atlantic City.

Bhuel tá deireadh le hádh agus d’fhuaraigh ár ngrá
Ach fanfaidh mé leatsa go deo
Seo linn amach mar tá ór ar an trá
Sea cuir ort do stocaí, béibí , tá an oíche ag reo.

Is cailltear gach aon ní seans, gan aon bhréag
Ach cá bhfios nach dtagann ar ais gach ní ón éag

Hú hú

Bhuel tá post á lorg agam ach deacair a fháil
Níl ach buaiteoir is cailliúnaí ann, agus ná bí id’ sheasamh lasmuigh den Pháil,
Bhuel táim bréan de bheith fágtha arís is arís
Sea, a stór, bhuaileas leis an mboc seo, is táim chun gar beag a dhéanamh dó, sin sin.

Bhuel ‘s dócha cailltear gach ní, béibí, gan aon bhréag
Ach cá bhfios nach dtagann ar ais gach ní ón éag
Cuir do ghruaig in ord is gach rud fite
Is buail liom anocht in Atlantic City.
Buail liom anocht in Atlantic City
Buail liom anocht in Atlantic City
Buail liom anocht in Atlantic City
Buail liom anocht in Atlantic City
Buail liom anocht in Atlantic City
Buail liom anocht in Atlantic City
Buail liom anocht in Atlantic City
Buail liom anocht in Atlantic City

Atlantic City

Well they blew up the chicken man in Philly last night
Now they blew up his house too
Down on the boardwalk they're getting ready for a fight
Gonna see what them racket boys can do

Now there's trouble busting in from outta state
And the D.A. can't get no relief
Gonna be a rumble out on the promenade
And the gambling commissions hanging on by the skin of its teeth

Well now everything dies baby that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic City

Well I got a job and tried to put my money away
But I got debts that no honest man can pay
So I drew what I had from the Central Trust
And I bought us two tickets on that Coast City bus

Now baby everything dies baby that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic City

Now our luck may have died and our love may be cold
But with you forever I'll stay
We're going out where the sand's turning to gold
So put on your stockings, baby, 'cause the night's getting cold

And maybe everything dies, that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back

Hoo hoo

Now I've been looking for a job but it's hard to find
Down here it's just winners and losers and don't get caught on the wrong side of that line
Well I'm tired of coming out on this losing end
So honey last night I met this guy and I'm gonna do a little favor for him

Well I guess everything dies baby that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your hair up nice and set up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City

Graifítí an Lae

Mura dtagann athrú radacach ar an duine, claochlú bunúsach á chur i bhfeidhm aige air féin, táimid chun sinn féin a mhilleadh. D'fhéadfadh réabhlóid shíceolaíoch a bheith anois againn, ní i gceann míle bliain. Tugadh na mílte bliain dúinn agus is barbaraigh sinn i gcónaí. Mar sin, mura n-athraímid anois, beimid fós inár mbarbaraigh amárach agus i gceann míle amárach eile.

J. Krishnamurti (1896 - 1986)

Foraideallaí

Oíche chiúin agus oíche an-fhliuch
Mé fá shuan, mé chomh ciúin le luch
Seo chugainn an boc a chuir an ruaig orainn
Bhuel, arbh é sin an forairdeallaí?

Aimsir gharbh, an t-am againn á mheilt
Sea, codladh ‘fháil i mball teolaí
Agus tháinig póilín, bhí sé in am sinn fhéin a cheilt
Hé, arbh é sin an forairdeallaí?

Bhuel abair cén fáth a n-iompraíonn sé é
Abair cén fáth a n-iompraíonn sé é
An gránghunna teasctha sin ina lámh’
A chomhdhaonnaí a leagan ar lár, an forairdeallaí, sea cén fáth?
Whoa!

Bhuel, seo ag fánaíocht mé, yé, ó áit go háit
Yé, seo ag fánaíocht mé, mmm, ó áit go háit,
Yé, is níl aon oidhre orainn, ach radharc éigin as an Táin,
‘Dhé
Arbh é sin d’fhorairdeallaí ?

Bhuel abair cén fáth a n-iompraíonn sé é
Sea cén fáth a n-iompraíonn sé é
Bata ár mbuailte ’na lámh’
An leagfadh sé fear ionraic ar lár, an forairdeallaí, sea cén fáth?

Wú, ó
Ó ó ó á
Wú, ó ó
Ó ó ó ó, ó
Wú, ó ó
Wú, ó ó á
Wú ó, á, á
Wú ó, á á.

Vigilante Man

Rainy night down in the engine house
Sleepin' just, just as still as a mouse
A man came along and chase us out in the rain
Well was that a vigilante man?

Stormy days, we pass the time away
Yeah, sleeping in some good warm place
And a cop come along, and we give him a little race
Say was that a vigilante man?

Well tell me why does a vigilante man
Tell me why does a vigilante man
Carry that sawed off shotgun in his hands
To shoot his brothers and sisters down, that no good vigilante man
Whoa!

Well, I ramble around, yeah, from town to town
Yeah, I ramble around, mm, from town to town
Yeah and they run us around like a wild herd of cattle, lord
Is that your vigilante man?

Well now why does that vigilante man
Why does that vigilante man
Carry that club in his hands
Would he beat an innocent man down, that no good vigilante man?

Whoo, ooh
Ooh ooh ooh ah
Whoo, ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh ooh, ooh
Whoo, ooh ooh
Whoo, ooh ooh ah
Whoo ooh, ah, ah
Whoo ooh, aaah ah

Deamhain is Cré

Deamhain is Cré

Tá mo mhéar agam ar an truicear
Ach níl muinín agam as éinn’
Nuair a fhéachaim ort sna súil’
Níl ach deamhain is cré.
Táimid i bhfad ón seanfhód, Bobbie
Tá an baile i bhfad i gcéin
Braithim gaoth shalach ag séideadh
Deamhain is cré.

Tá Dia le mo thaobh
Is mé ag iarraidh teacht slán
Ach más é is brí le teacht slán
Teacht salach ar ghrá
Rud an-láidir uamhan, béibí,
Agus dubhaíonn an croí, sin é é,
Tógfaidh d’anam diaga
Le líonadh le deamhain is cré.

Bhuel, bhí taibhreamh a’m aréir
Do bhí fuil is cloch’ gach áit
An fhuil do thriomaigh sí
Is boladh ag éirí
Bhuel bhí taibhreamh agam fút, Bobbie
I ngort na láibe is na gcnámh
An fhuil do thriomaigh sí
Is an boladh ag éirí.

Tá Dia lenár dtaobh
Is sinn ag iarraidh teacht slán
Ach más é is brí le teacht slán
Teacht salach ar ghrá
Rud an-láidir uamhan, béibí,
Agus dubhaíonn an croí, sin é é,
Tógfaidh d’anam diaga
Le líonadh le deamhain is cré.

Níl aon bhean ar domhan ná fear ar bith
Nach mian leo seasamh leis an gceart
Faigh an grá atá Uaidh
Is an creideamh is an neart
Tá mo mhéar agam ar an truicear
Is anocht táim imithe ar strae
Nuair a fhéachaimse im’ chroí
Níl ach deamhain is cré.

Bhuel, tá Dia le mo thaobh
Is mé ag iarraidh teacht slán
Ach más é is brí le teacht slán
Teacht salach ar ghrá
Rud an-láidir uamhan, béibí,
Agus dubhaíonn an croí, sin é é,
Tógfaidh d’anam diaga
Le líonadh le deamhain is cré.
Yé, tógfaidh d’anam diaga
Le líonadh le deamhain is cré.

Devils and Dust

I got my finger on the trigger
But I don't know who to trust
When I look into your eyes
There's just devils and dust
We're a long, long way from home, Bobbie
Home's a long, long way from us
I feel a dirty wind blowing
Devils and dust

I got God on my side
And I'm just trying to survive
What if what you do to survive
Kills the things you love
Fear's a powerful thing, baby
It can turn your heart black you can trust
It'll take your God filled soul
And fill it with devils and dust

Well I dreamed of you last night
In a field of blood and stone
The blood began to dry
The smell began to rise
Well I dreamed of you last night, Bobbie
In a field of mud and bone
Your blood began to dry
And the smell began to rise

We've got God on our side
We're just trying to survive
What if what you do to survive
Kills the things you love
Fear's a powerful thing, baby
It'll turn your heart black you can trust
It'll take your God filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust
It'll take your God filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust

Now every woman and every man
They wanna take a righteous stand
Find the love that God wills
And the faith that He commands
I've got my finger on the trigger
And tonight faith just ain't enough
When I look inside my heart
There's just devils and dust

Well I've got God on my side
And I'm just trying to survive
What if what you do to survive
Kills the things you love
Fear's a dangerous thing
It can turn your heart black you can trust
It'll take your God filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust
Yeah it'll take your God filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust

Issa agus bambúnna

涼風も隣の竹のあまり哉
suzukaze mo tonari no take no amari kana

tail end
of a a cooling breeze
through the neighbours’s bamboo

ruainne
de leoithne fhionnuar
trí bhambúnna na gcomharsan

竹の子の影の川こす旭哉
takenoko no kage no kawa kosu asahi kana

Bamboo are shooting shadows
across the stream…
morning sun

bambúnna ag scaoileadh scáileanna
trasna na habhann…
grian na maidine

.わか竹の起きんとすれば電り
waka take no okin to sureba inabikari

just as a young bamboo
rights itself…
lightning

díreach agus bambú óg
á dhíriú féin …
tintreach

.そよげそよげそよげわか竹今のうち
soyoge soyoge soyoge waka take ima no uchi
wiggle away for yourself
wiggle young bamboo…
while you can
 
bí ag luascadh leat
luasc, a bhambú óig
faid is atá seans agat     

.竹の子の兄よ弟よ老ぬ
takenoko no ani yo ototo yo toshiyorinu
bamboo shoots…
big siblings, little ones
all growing up

peacáin bhambú…
siblíní idir bheag is mhór
ag éirí aníos 

.今生えた竹の先也雀の子
ima haeta take no saki nari suzume no ko
atop
a newly sprouted bamboo…
baby sparrow

ar bharr
an bhambú nua-phéactha …
gealbhan óg  

.順々に大竹の子の曲りけり
jun-jun ni ôtakenoko no magari keri
one bends
now another…
tall bamboo shoots

ceann acu ag cromadh
ceann eile …
peacáin bhambú arda

.笹ﾂ葉の春雨なめる鼠哉
sasappa no harusame nameru nezumi kana

Spring rain
on a bamboo leaf…
a mouse licks it

báisteach earraigh
ar dhuilleog bhambú …
á lí ag luch

.笹の葉に稲妻さらりさらり哉
sasa no ha ni inazuma sarari-sarari kana

on bamboo leaves…
flickering flickering
lightning

ar dhuilleoga bambú …
tintreach
ag preabarnach

An bambú agus haiku na Seapáine Bamboo (take)

Mantra chun eagla is imní a shárú

ਥਾਪਿਆ ਨ ਜਾਇ ਕੀਤਾ ਨ ਹੋਇ ॥
Thāpiā na jāe kīṯā na hoe.

Ní féidir É a bhunú, ní féidir É a chruthú.


 ਆਪੇ ਆਪਿ ਨਿਰੰਜਨੁ ਸੋਇ ॥
Āpe āp niranjan soe.

Íon gan teimheal atá Sé.

 ਜਿਨਿ ਸੇਵਿਆ ਤਿਨਿ ਪਾਇਆ ਮਾਨੁ ॥
Jin seviā ṯin pāiā mān.

Is onóir é a bheith umhal dó.

 ਨਾਨਕ ਗਾਵੀਐ ਗੁਣੀ ਨਿਧਾਨੁ ॥
Nānak gāvīai guṇī niḏẖān.

A Nanak, mol an Tiarna, Ciste na Foirfeachta.

 ਗਾਵੀਐ ਸੁਣੀਐ ਮਨਿ ਰਖੀਐ ਭਾਉ ॥
Gāvī▫ai suṇīai man rakẖīai bẖāo.

Can is éist, agus lig do d’aigne a bheith líonta le grá.

 ਦੁਖੁ ਪਰਹਰਿ ਸੁਖੁ ਘਰਿ ਲੈ ਜਾਇ ॥
Ḏukẖ parhar sukẖ gẖar lai jāe.

Cuirfear pian i bhfad uait agus cónóidh an tsíocháin i do thigh.

 ਗੁਰਮੁਖਿ ਨਾਦੰ ਗੁਰਮੁਖਿ ਵੇਦੰ ਗੁਰਮੁਖਿ ਰਹਿਆ ਸਮਾਈ ॥
Gurmukẖ nāḏaʼn gurmukẖ veḏaʼn gurmukẖ rahiā samāī.

Sruth fuaime an Naad é briathar an Ghúrú; gaois na Véidí é; gabhann briathar an Ghúrú ar fud na bhfud.

 ਗੁਰੁ ਈਸਰੁ ਗੁਰੁ ਗੋਰਖੁ ਬਰਮਾ ਗੁਰੁ ਪਾਰਬਤੀ ਮਾਈ ॥
Gur īsar gur gorakẖ barmā gur pārbaṯī māī.
Is é Síve é an Gúrú, is é Visniú agus Bráma é an Gúrú; Párvátaí agus Laicsmí.

 ਜੇ ਹਉ ਜਾਣਾ ਆਖਾ ਨਾਹੀ ਕਹਣਾ ਕਥਨੁ ਨ ਜਾਈ ॥
Je hao jāṇā ākẖā nāhī kahṇā kathan na jāī.

Fiú agus eolas agam air Dhia, nílim in ann cur síos Air; níl léamh ná scríobh ná insint béil Air.

 ਗੁਰਾ ਇਕ ਦੇਹਿ ਬੁਝਾਈ ॥
Gurā ik ḏehi bujẖāī.

Tá léargas amháin tugtha ag an nGúrú dom:

 ਸਭਨਾ ਜੀਆ ਕਾ ਇਕੁ ਦਾਤਾ ਸੋ ਮੈ ਵਿਸਰਿ ਨ ਜਾਈ ॥੫॥
Sabẖnā jīā kā ik ḏāṯā so mai visar na jāī.

Níl ann ach an tAon, Bronntóir gach anama. Nár dhéana mé dearmad Air choíche!

Hé, Sarika, hé

Hé, Sarika, hé

Hé, Sarika, hé
Tabhair dom braoinín uisce
Hé, Sarika, hé!
Táim cosnochta
Ní bhfaighidh mé uisce duitse
D’éireodh mo chosa an-fhuar

Hé, Sarika, hé
Gleoite is ana –álainn
Hé, Sarika, hé
Fionn is lán de gháire
Cad ba mhaith leat ’fháil:

bróg’ ó Unkapán*
slipéir ó Chibali*


Níl faic in aon chor uaim
Ná faigh dom aon ní
Tá agam athair
Ceannaí mór na háite
Is ceannóidh seisean dom

bróg’ ó Unkapán
slipéir ó Chibali

Hé, Sarika, hé
Ard agus ana-álainn
Hé, Sarika, hé
Gleoite is lán de gháire
Tógfaidh mise thú
I do chéile agamsa

Mar chéile agamsa
Mar chéile agamsa

Ní theastaíonn tusa uaim
Nílimse le fáil
Tá deartháir agam
É ag treabhadh na farra’ge
Agus tabharfaidh sé
Céile leis abhaile.

---

*áiteanna in Iostanbúl

Bre Sarika, bre
Trayme un poco d’água
Sto deskalsa
Ay rosio’n basho
Me se hiela el pie

Bre sarika, bre
Linda i hermosika
Bre sarika, bre
Blonda y savrosika
Yo te vo merkar

Sapatos d’Unkapán
Chizmés de Chibali

No me prime a mi
Ke me merkes tú
Tengo un padre
Merkader muy grande
Y el me va merkar

Sapatos d’Unkapán
Chizmés de Chibali

Bre sarika, bre
Alta y hermosika
Bre sarika, bre
Linda i savrosika
Yo te va tomar
Por novia para mí

Novia para mí
Novia para mí

No me prime a mi
Ke me tomes tú
Tengo hermano
En la mar soldado
Y el me va traer
Novio para mí

 

Cime Chugainn

Cime Chugainn

Tá an cime ag teacht chugainne
Is tá cimí eile léi.
Is ina measc siúd
Seo chugainn an cailín gléigeal
Níl ina lá geal, níl
Níl ina mhaidin bhán.
Canann an cailín gléigeal
Faoin mbuairt atá ina lár

Ó na goirt is glas iad
Ó na hológa gréine
Agus mo mháithrín Gracia
Amuigh ag ní ár gcuid éadaigh.
Ó, nach álainn an ghiúis sin
Mé féin agus m’fhear céile:
Luíomar ann gan dúiseacht
Inár gcodladh le pléisiúr.
Ó na tuamaí bána
Ó, tuamaí sin ár sinsir!
Eitlímse ar fán dom
I m’éan dom ar fud na síoraíochta . . .

Ya viene el cativo

Amhrán de chuid na ndaoine.

Spáinnis / Laidínis

Ya viene el cativo
con todas las cativas.
Dientro de ellas
esta la blanca niña.
Ni amanecía
ni era de día
cuando la blanca niña
cantava su manzia.

'O qué campos verdes
O campos de olivas
onde mi madre Gracia
lavava y espandía.
O, qué pino hermozo
onde con mi espozo
baxo su solombra
dormíamos con gozo.
O, qué tombas blancas,
o tombas de avuelos
Paso sobre ellas
como paxaro en su vuelo.

Taibhse Tom Joad

Ar na ráillí tá na fir ag siúl
Dul áit éigin is níl dul ar gcúl
Tá na héileacaptair an mullach chugainn aniar
Súp te sa champa faoin droichead á riar.
Scuaine na mbochtán thar an gcoirnéal
Fáilte, tá ord nua i réim
Teaghlaigh san iardheisceart ina gcairt ina luí
Níl áit ná jab acu ná scíth.

Bhuel is beo don bhealach mór san oích’
Ach níl éinne ag cur dallamullóg ar éinne ar ndóigh
Táimse anseo cois na tine im’ shuí
Mé sa tóir ar thaibhse Tom Joad

As a mhála codlata an leabhar urnaí
Lasann Preacher is ólann sé a bhun toitín
Fanacht cé bheidh chun tosaigh, cé bheidh chun deiridh, mo léir
Insan íosbhealach, bosca cairtpháipéir

 Go dtí an tír tairngire ticéad aon treo
Tá gunnán i do ghlac is tá do bholg i mbun gleo
Ar philiúr cloch sea ligeann tú do scíth
Agus tú ag snámh san uiscerian.

Is is beo don bhealach mór san oích’
Cá bhfuil a thriall, is eol dúinn a threo
Táimse anseo cois na tine im’ shuí
Mé sa tóir ar thaibhse Tom Joad

Deir Tom, ‘’Mhaim, má tá duine á bhualadh ag póilín
 Má tá leanbh nuabheirthe ag lorg bia
 Má tá troid ann in aghaidh an phóir agus fuath san aer
 Cuardaigh, a Mhaim, agus féach
 Má tá duine ag troid ar son a phaiste féin
Nó ag súil le jab áit éigin faoin ngréin
Má tá duine ag streachailt chun a bheith saor
Féach air, a Mhaim, feicfidh tú mé.’

Bhuel is beo don bhealach mór san oích’
Ach níl éinne ag cur dallamullóg ar éinne ar ndóigh
Táimse anseo cois na tine im’ shuí
Mé sa tóir ar thaibhse Tom Joad

The Ghost of Tom Joad

Men walking 'long the railroad tracks
Going someplace and there's no going back
Highway patrol choppers coming up over the ridge
Hot soup on a campfire under the bridge
Shelter line stretching 'round the corner
Welcome to the new world order
Families sleeping in their cars in the southwest
No home, no job, no peace, no rest

Well the highway is alive tonight
But nobody's kidding nobody about where it goes
I'm sitting down here in the campfire light
Searching for the ghost of Tom Joad

He pulls a prayer book out of his sleeping bag
Preacher lights up a butt and he takes a drag
Waiting for when the last shall be first and the first shall be last
In a cardboard box 'neath the underpass
You got a one-way ticket to the promised land
You got a hole in your belly and a gun in your hand
Sleeping on a pillow of solid rock
Bathing in the city aqueduct

And the highway is alive tonight
Where it's headed everybody knows
I'm sitting down here in the campfire light
Waiting on the ghost of Tom Joad

Tom said, "Mom, wherever there's a cop beating a guy
Wherever a hungry newborn baby cries
Where there's a fight against the blood and hatred in the air
Look for me, Mom, I'll be there
Where there's somebody fighting for a place to stand
Or a decent job or a helping hand
Wherever somebody's struggling to be free
Look in their eyes, Mom, you'll see me"

The highway is alive tonight
But nobody's kidding nobody about where it goes
I'm sitting down here in the campfire light
With the ghost of old Tom Joad

An Abhainn

Thána aníos as an ngleanntán is nuair a bhíos-sa óg
Do leanas-sa mo dhaid, dob é sin an nós,
Mise is Mary, bhuaileas léi ar scoil, bhí sise seacht mbliana déag
Amach linn as an ngleanntán síos go dtí an gort glas réidh.

Théimis síos chun na habhann is thumaimis insan abhainn síos
Ó thíos cois na habhann sin a bhíos.

Ansin bhí Mary ag iompar, is ní dúirt sí féin níos mó
Is nuair a bhíos-sa naoi déag is mé sa cheardchumann is pósta go hóg

Chuamar go dtí an giúistís agus dhein sé siúd an gnó
Gan gáire pósta, ná siúl síos an aidhill, ná gúna is gan flós.

Chuamar an oíche sin chun na habhann is thumamar san abhainn síos
Ó thíos cois na habhann sea do bhíos, yé yé yé

Fuaireas jab ag obair ar thógáil leis an Johnstown Company
Le tamall níl mórán ar siúl, cuir an locht ar an eacnamaíocht,
Bhuel na rudaí go léir a raibh tábhacht leo, bhuel mister do dh’imigh mar shneachta ar chnoc, Mary – cuma léi sa phoc*.
Ach is cuimhin liom sinn ag marcaíocht i gcairt mo dhearthár, a colainn fliuch is donn thíos ag an taiscumar,
Istoíche ar an mbruach gan suan le fáil, á tarraingt chugam chun go gcloisfinn a hanáil,
Is tá na cuimhní sin anois dom’ chrá, mar mhallachtaí im’ lár,
An bréag í brionglóid mura dtagann í gcrích, nó an seacht measa atá
A chuireann síos chun na habhann mé, cé gurb eol dom í bheith i ndísc
A chuireann síos chun na habhann mé anocht, aidhe yaidhe yaidhe,
Síos chun na habhann, mé féin is mo mhian,
Ó, síos chun na habhann ag marcaíocht, á, yé yé
Ó . . .

---

 [* nó b'fhéidir 'sa sioc'; is deacair an ls. a léamh]

The River

I come from down in the valley where mister when you're young
They bring you up to do like your daddy done
Me and Mary we met in high school when she was just seventeen
We'd ride out of that valley down to where the fields were green

We'd go down to the river and into the river we'd dive
Oh down to the river we'd ride

Then I got Mary pregnant and man that was all she wrote
And for my nineteenth birthday I got a union card and a wedding coat
We went down to the courthouse and the judge put it all to rest
No wedding day smiles, no walk down the aisle, no flowers no wedding dress

That night we went down to the river and into the river we'd dive
Oh down to the river we did ride, yay yay yay

I got a job working construction for the Johnstown Company
But lately there ain't been much work on account of the economy
Now all them things that seemed so important, well mister they vanished right into the air
Now I just act like I don't remember, Mary acts like she don't care

But I remember us riding in my brother's car, her body tan and wet down at the reservoir
At night on them banks I'd lie awake and pull her close just to feel each breath she'd take
Now those memories come back to haunt me, they haunt me like a curse
Is a dream a lie if it don't come true or is it something worse

That sends me down to the river, though I know the river is dry
That sends me down to the river tonight, ay yay yay
Down to the river, my baby and I
Oh down to the river we ride, ah yay yay
Ooh ooh ooh ooh, ooh ooh-ooh-ooh
Ooh-ooh-ooh ooh ooh ooh, ooh ooh-ooh-ooh
Ooh ooh ooh ooh, ooh ooh-ooh-ooh
Ooh-ooh-ooh ooh ooh ooh, ooh-ooh

Hungry Heart/ Croí ar Bís

Yé!
Seo linn!
Whoa!

Céile is páistí i mBaltimore, Jack
Chuas amach ag marcaíocht is níor thána ar ais
Mar bheadh abhainn is nach bhfuil fhios aici a slí
Do chuaigh mé ar strae, táim ag imeacht de shíor.

Féach gach éinne is a chroí ar bís
Féach gach éinne is a chroí ar bís
Airgead síos agus lean ort ag spraoi
Féach gach éinne is a – a chroí ar bís.
Whoa
Do bhuaileas léi istigh i mbeár
Is thit i ngrá, ní fada a bhíos ar bís
Níorbh fhada go raibh gach aon diabhal rud ar lár:
Táimse ar ais i nDún Laoghaire* arís.

Féach gach éinne is a chroí ar bís
Féach gach éinne is a chroí ar bís
Airgead síos agus lean ort ag spraoi
Féach gach éinne is a – a chroí ar bís.

Lá lá lá lá lá lá
Ó yé
Lá lá lá lá lá lá
Tá gach éinne ag lorg ionad scíth’
Tá tigh ó chuile dhuine faoin ngréin
Is cuma sa sioc cad tá siad á rá
Ní maith le héinne a bheith leis féin
Hé yé hé

Féach gach éinne is a chroí ar bís
Féach gach éinne is a chroí ar bís
Airgead síos agus lean ort ag spraoi
Féach gach éinne is a – a chroí ar bís.
(Féach gach éinne is a chroí ar bís)
Ó yé
(Féach gach éinne is a-) a chroí ar bís
(Airgead síos agus lean ort ag spraoi)
Ó yé
(Féach gach éinne is a chroí ar bís)
Ó yé
Lá lá lá lá lá lá
Ó yé
Lá lá lá lá lá lá
Ó yé
Hmmm
Ó
----------------------
(*Kingstown)

Abdul Sotalach

Abdul Sotalach

Rahul Rai

Samhlaigh le do thoil sotal Abdul bhoicht:
Arsa Abdul bocht: 'Bead i m'fhear mór lá breá éigin.'
Arsa Abdul bocht: 'Raghaidh mé ar scoil.'
Arsa Abdul bocht: 'Íosfaidh mé go dtí go mbeidh mé lán.'
Arsa Abdul bocht: 'Is mian liom a bheith saor'.
Arsa Abdul bocht: 'Is fuath liom an ricseá a tharraingt.'
Arsa Abdul bocht: 'Is fuath liom ragobair.'
Arsa Abdul bocht: 'Ní maith liom na saoistí ag tabhairt amach dom.'
Arsa Abdul bocht: 'Ní maith liom obair gan phá.'
Samhlaigh le do thoil sotal Abdul bhoicht,
a liacht sin éileamh aige, ainneoin é a bheith beo bocht.
Bunteanga: Hiondúis

Cocky Abdul

Rahul Rai

Just imagine the cockiness of poor Abdul:
Poor Abdul says – “I'll be a big man one day.”
Poor Abdul says – “I'll go to school.”
Poor Abdul says – “I'll eat till I am full.”
Poor Abdul says – “I want to be free.”
Poor Abdul says – “I hate pulling the rickshaw.”
Poor Abdul says – “I hate overtime.”
Poor Abdul says – “I don’t like being scolded by the babus.”
Poor Abdul says – “I hate unpaid work.”
Just imagine the cockiness of poor Abdul,
so many demands, despite being poor.

Ο ΦΑΝΤΑΣΜΕΝΟΣ ΑΜΠΝΤΟΥΛ

Για φαντάσου τη μεγάλη ιδέα του φτωχού Αμπντούλ:
Ο φτωχός Αμπντούλ λέει - "Θα γίνω μεγάλος μια μέρα."
Ο φτωχός Αμπντούλ λέει - "Θα πηγαίνω στο σχολείο."
Ο φτωχός Αμπντούλ λέει - "Θα χορταίνω την πείνα μου."
Ο φτωχός Αμπντούλ λέει - "Θέλω να είμαι ελεύθερος."
Ο φτωχός Αμπντούλ λέει - "Σιχαίνομαι να σέρνω το ρίκσο."
Ο φτωχός Αμπντούλ λέει - "Σιχαίνομαι την υπερωρία."
Ο φτωχός Αμπντούλ λέει - "Δε μ' αρέσει να με βρίζουν οι ανώτεροι."
Ο φτωχός Αμπντούλ λέει - "Σιχαίνομαι την απλήρωτη δουλειά."
Για φαντάσου τη μεγάλη ιδέα του φτωχού Αμπντούλ,
τόσες πολλές απαιτήσεις, αν και φτωχός.

Leagan Gréigise: Sarah Thilykou

An Bás agus an Ainnir

File: Matthias Claudius Cumadóir: Franz Schubert

Der Tod und das Mädchen Das Mädchen Vorüber! Ach, vorüber! Geh wilder Knochenmann! Ich bin noch jung, geh Lieber! Und rühre mich nicht an. Der Tod Gib deine Hand, Du schön und zart Gebild! Bin Freund, und komme nicht, zu strafen. Sey gutes Muths! ich bin nicht wild, Sollst sanft in meinen Armen schlafen!

An Ainnir: An deireadh! Uch, an deireadh! Ná fan a fhir na gcnámh! Is óg dom fós, a stóirín! Is coinnigh uaim do lámh. An Bás: Tabhair dom do lámh, a chraobh is milse bláth! Táim séimh, ní mian liom tú a mhilleadh. Bíodh ort lúcháir! Ní fiáin atáim, Is sámh a chodlóimidne choíche.

Tenth Avenue Freeze Out / Tenth Avenue Reoite

Deora ar an gcathair
Bad Scooter ag lorg a chlais’
Slí chun bogadh ann is deacair
Is an domhan go léir ag siúl go deas
Bhuel, b’fhearr do gach éinne bogadh i leataoibh
Ar an drochthaobh atáimse ag rith
Is leis an bhfalla atá mo dhroim.

Tenth Avenue reoite
Tenth Avenue reoite

Bhuel, bhí mé tréigthe insan dufair
Is shúigh mé isteach an teas go léir ‘bhí uathu
Bhí an oíche dubh, ach an cosán geal
Is solas na mbeo ag dul chucu
As fuinneoigín árasáin, raidió i mbun gleo
Timpeall an chúinne liom, is bhí an domhan ag reo
An chéad rud eile Tenth Avenue reoite
Tenth Avenue reoite

Is tá mé liom féin, go hiomlán
A mhic, ba cheart duit é a thuiscint!
Agus táim liom féin, i m’aonar táim
Agus táim ar fán.

Nuair a tharla athrú
Chuaigh an Fear Mór leis an mbuíon
Ón gcósta go dtí an chathair
A lámh in airde ag gach cailín
Táim chun luí siar agus gáire go deas
Mar Scooter is an Fear Mór, roinnfidh siad é ‘na leath, ó

Tenth Avenue reoite
Tenth Avenue reoite
Tenth Avenue reoite
Tenth Avenue reoite
Tá mé ag tagairt do – abair
Yé, tada ach an – abair
Tá mé ag tagairt don, abair
Ní tada é ach Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth
Tá mé ag tagairt don Tenth, Tenth Avenue reoite
Tenth Avenue reoite
Tenth Avenue reoite

Tenth Avenue Freeze Out

Tenth Avenue freeze-out
Tenth Avenue freeze-out
Tenth Avenue freeze-out
Tenth Avenue freeze-out
I'm talking about a, tell me
Yeah, nothing but a, tell me
I'm talking about the, tell me
Ain't nothing but a Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth, Tenth
I'm talking about the Tenth, Tenth Avenue freeze-out
Tenth Avenue freeze-out
Tenth Avenue freeze-out

Youngstown

 In oirthuaisceart Ohio, siar in ocht déag’s a trí
James is Danny Heaton fuair siad an mhian a bhí in Yellow Creek
Thóg siad foirnéis soinneáin, thóg siad í cois trá
Dhein siad caora gunnaí mhóir a thug an tAontas leo san ár.
Is in Youngstown, is in Youngstown,
A Jenny dhil, mé báite ann,
A stóirín in Youngstown.

Bhuel, mo Daidí is na foirnéisí, chomh te le leac na bpian,
Mise tagtha ó ‘Nam, d’oibríos i mo scairféir, jab ‘bheadh ag teacht leis an diabhal is a mhian,
 Cóc tacanaíte is aolchloch ‘chothaigh an chlann is thuill mo phá,
Na simléir ag síneadh mar lámha Dé chuig firmimint álainn de shúiche is láib.
 Is in Youngstown, is in Youngstown,
Jenny dhil, mé báite ann,
A stóirín in Youngstown.

Bhuel tháinig mo dhaidí chun na monarchan tar éis dó teacht ó pháirc an áir
Níl sa chlós ach dramh is spallaí, ar sé, ‘Scrios níos mó ná Hitler laistigh de lá.’
Yé, anseo a tógadh buama is tanc a bhuaigh na cogaí dúinn
Chuireamar iad dtí an Chóiré is Vítneam, an é gur chuireadar a saol amú.
Is in Youngstown, is in Youngstown,
A Jenny dhil, mé báite ann,
A stóirín in Youngstown.

Sea ón Monongahela Valley go dtí Mesabi Iron Range
Na mianta guail in Appalachia, níl athrú ar an scéal,
Seacht gcéad tonna miotail in aghaidh an lae, is deir tú gur athraigh an saol,
Mise a dhein an saibhreas duit, saibhir is ní heol duit cé mé.

Is Youngstown, is Youngstown,
A Jenny dhil, mé báite ann,
A stóirín in Youngstown.

T’réis mo bháis, ní shantóinnse na flaithis, ní bheadh an obair ar mo mhian,
Guímse go dtiocfaidh Fear na gCrúb chugam le bheith i measc na bhfoirnéis’ ar leac na bpian.

Youngstown

Here in northeast Ohio, back in eighteen-o-three
James and Danny Heaton found the ore that was linin' Yellow Creek
They built a blast furnace here along the shore
And they made the cannon balls that helped the Union win the war

Here in Youngstown, here in Youngstown
My sweet Jenny I'm sinkin' down
Here darlin' in Youngstown

Well my daddy worked the furnaces, kept 'em hotter than hell
I come home from 'Nam worked my way to scarfer, a job that'd suit the devil as well
Well taconite coke and limestone fed my children and made my pay
Them smokestacks reachin' like the arms of God into a beautiful sky of soot and clay

Here in Youngstown, here in Youngstown
Sweet Jenny I'm sinkin' down
Here darlin' in Youngstown

Well my daddy come on the Ohio works when he come home from World War Two
Now the yard's just scrap and rubble, he said "Them big boys did what Hitler couldn't do."
Yeah these mills they built the tanks and bombs that won this country's wars
We sent our sons to Korea and Vietnam, now we're wondering what they were dyin' for

Here in Youngstown, here in Youngstown
My sweet Jenny I'm sinkin' down
Here darlin' in Youngstown

From the Monongahela valley to the Mesabi iron range
To the coal mines of Appalachia, the story's always the same
Seven hundred tons of metal a day, now sir you tell me the world's changed
Once I made you rich enough, rich enough to forget my name

And Youngstown, and Youngstown
My sweet Jenny I'm sinkin' down
Here darlin' in Youngstown

When I die I don't want no part of heaven, I would not do heaven's work well
I pray the devil comes and takes me to stand in the fiery furnaces of hell

Haiku le Issa ón mbliain 1815

ar bhláth na ráibe
ina suí go héadrom…
luch

.菜の花やふはと鼠のとまりけり

na no hana ya fuwa to nezumi no tomari keri

Amhrán Grá/ Love Song

Amhrán Grá

Anon (Gondi)

Tá mo fhliút de bhambú glas agam á seinm,
mo mhéara agam ar an méarluí.
Conas a chuirfinn mo dhá lámh thart ort, a ghrá,
Agus mo fhliúit de bhambú glas agam á seinm?
Ith beagán silí agus fan tamall.
Tá mo lámha gafa, ní fhéadfainn tú a chuachadh le m'ucht.
Tá mo fhliúit de bhambú glas agam á seinm,
is mo mhéara agam ar an méarluí.

Love Song

Anon (Gondi)

I am playing on my flute of green bamboo,
My fingers are resting on the stops.
So how can I take you in my arms, O love,
When I'm playing on my flute of green bamboo?
Eat a little chilli and wait awhile.
My hands are full already, so how can we embrace?
I am playing on my flute of green bamboo,
And my fingers are resting on the stops.

Translated from Gondi by Shamrao Hivale and Verrier Elwin

Océane Buret

Océane Buret
an chéad bhád againn déanta as páipéar… í fós ag seoladh	our first boat made from paper… still sailing
	πρώτη μας βάρκα φτιαγμένη από χαρτί… πλέει ακόμη Leagan Gréigise: Sarah Thilykou

Springsteen - Amhrán 3: Factory / Monarcha

Monarcha

An-luath ar maidin, ón monarcha fead,
Gléasann an duine t'réis éirí ón nead,
Tógann a lón, siúlann faoi sholas an lae
Is saol oibre, saol oibre, is saol oibre é.

Trí árais na heagla, is trí árais na péin'
Tá mo dhaidí ag siúl leis faoin mbáisteach is é leis féin
Geataí na monarchan, geataí móra an tsaoil
Is saol oibre, saol oibre, is saol oibre é.


Deireadh an lae, á fhogairt ag fead ghéar,
Daoine ar a dtriall, na súile ag éag,
Agus creid uaimse a mhic ó, beidh duine éigin anocht i bpéin,
Is saol oibre, saol oibre, is saol oibre é.
Mar is saol oibre, saol oibre, is saol oibre é.

Factory

Early in the morning factory whistle blows
Man rises from bed and puts on his clothes
Man takes his lunch, walks out in the morning light
It's the working, the working, just the working life

Through the mansions of fear, through the mansions of pain
I see my daddy walking through them factory gates in the rain
Factory takes his hearing, factory gives him life
The working, the working, just the working life

End of the day, factory whistle cries
Men walk through these gates with death in their eyes
And you just better believe, boy, somebody's gonna get hurt tonight
It's the working, the working, just the working life
Cause it's the working, the working, just the working life