Seán a’s Mé

 

Breis beag a’s bliain ó shin, tráthnóna Samhraidh, d’airigh (chuala) mise agus mo bhean screád uathbhásach an bháis ón gcoill mór atá taobh thiar dár teach. “Ní foláir no go bhfuil uan ag  na daoine taobh linn, i ngan fhios duinn,” duirt mé le’m bhean, “agus go bhfuil an t-uan san ar strae sa choill.” Ach lean an t-uan air ag screadaigh in anaithe a bheatha. “In ainm Dé!” dúirt mo bhean.

Ritheamar isteach sa choill a lorg; agus fuair.

Ní uan a bhí ann, ach oisín, agus fisher cat – easóg mór, craosach, neamthrócaireach – a fiach; greim aige ar mhuineál an oisín, ag iarraidh é a leagadh, chun a stracadh as a chèile.

Chomh luath agus a thanamar-na ar an lathair, theith an fisher.

Ni ghá dom scéal Madra na n-Ocht gCos a dhéanamh de. D’fhéadfaímis siúl amach as an gcoill arís, agus ligint don oisin (na raibh ach coicís, dearfainn, slánaithe aige) agus don fisher: ligint do chúrsaí ”Nadúir” dul ar aghaidh…ach níor dhin. Thugamar agus na daoine taobh linn, thugamar  an t-oisín abhaile, agus é ag cur fola go tiubh agus ag meigligh go truaimhéileach.

Ní bhíonn cead ag aon duine baint le fia -- dul ag foirithint air no faic, -- sa state seo Mheiriceá (duiche mhór fiagaí í, ina mealltar an-chuid airgid ó allmhúraigh gach bhliain nuair a thagaid isteach chun dul ar thóir fia), i dtreo na raibh cabhair nó chomhairle ar fáil duinn, áit ar bith. Ag crith le huamhan romhainn a bhí an t-oisín, ar ndoigh, ach dhineamar (rinneamar) puball beag do taobh thiar den teach s’againne, sa tslí go bhféadfadh an mhathair teacht air istoíche.

Níor tháinig sí.

Is amhlaidh gur airíomar (chualamar) an oíche roimhe sin, coyotes ag fiach sa choill  in aice linn, agus is annamh a théann siadsan ar tóir creatúir, ná go  faigheann siad gréim air sa deireadh. Ní foláir nó go raibh mathair an oisín marbh acu siúd, agus ba shin faoi ndéar don oisín a bheith ar strae ón áit dideán a bheartaigh a mhathair dó.

Cheannaíomar "all species milk replacement" sa tsiopa feirm. Gach dara uair ar feadh seachtaine, mar sin, lá agus oíche, ghabhamar chun an oisín le buidéil, duine againn a choimeád ina sheasamh, faid agus a bhí an duine eile ag tabhairt deoch dó.

Ní bhíonn ar chumas oisín déanamh dó féin nó go mbíonn bliain d’aois, agus bhi mo bhuachaill lag go maith, agus cos leis gortaithe. Is amhlaidh gur bhriseadh a mhuinéal freisin nuair a ionsaíodh é, ach amháin nár scar na cnámha óna chéile. D’fhag san ag féachaint fiarsceo i gcónaí é, tar éis don mhuinéal tearnamh, agus ní raibh ar a chumas béal a chur le féar no le talamh. Bhí luibheanna  a thaithnigh go mór leis (caisearbhán, lus na sead, a’s mar sin de), agus ní raibh aon bac orainne iad a chruinniú dó. D’fhéacheadh sé féin chun duillóga crainn bheithe agus maple a sholáthar dó féin, nuair a fheabhsaigh sé. 

Chuireamar páil timpeall ar straice de sheana-mhóinéar atá taobh thiar den teach freisin, áit na raibh radharc ón mbóthar ar mo bhuachaill. Bhíodh scóip ag an oisín siúl ann. Siúl, sea, agus léim agus rith, mar tháinig an-chroí ann, tar eis míosa, agus neart ann de reir a chéile. Bhuaileadh sé go minic i gcoinne crainn ar tús, nuair na raibh radharc maith aige ar an rud a bhí ós a chomhair amach, ach i gcionn mí nó dhó, d’fhoghlaim sé conas an saol a laimhseáil go haiclí, caoch mar a bhí.

D’èirigh sè mór linn freisin.

Geimhreadh fada fíochmhar a bhí ann an bhliain sin, a’s thit mórán sneachtaigh, ach bhí sort bóthán beag tógtha againn don oisín, mar fhoscadh. Ghlanamar an sneachta ósna cósáin ann, tar éis gach stoirm, i dtreo go bhféadfaí siúl an móineár.

(Murach an páill, bheadh beirthe ages na coyotes ar an oisín istóiche. Is minic a dh’aireófaí (chloisfaí) iad istoiche ag fiach  sna coillte timpeall orainn. Níor nocht mathair ariamh ina dhiaidh sin, bíodh agus gur fhagamar slí di teacht chuige, agus gan teach nó faic eile ina aice a scannródh í.)

Teacht an earraigh, leageamar an paill, ag ligint don oisín siúl amach ar a thóil fèin. Tá bóthar ann ós comhaiir ár dtighe, agus bóthar eile tamall uainn, agus bíonn cuid mhaith gluaisteáin ar rith ar an tarna cheann acu. Chun Seán (an oisín) a chur ag seachaint na boithre agus dhaoine, raghainn isteach sa choill mhór taobh thiar den teach ar èirí na greine gach maidin sara dtabhrainn agaidh ar an bpost agam sa baile mór (baile na fuil chomh mór sin, dáiríre.)  Chaithimis uair a chloig ann ag siúil duinn fèin.

I dtiús báire, is ar dualgaisí an lae san sa phost agam a bheinn ag smaoineamh, agus ar conas na raibh de uain agam a bheith ag bhalcáireacht sa choill. "Dhera, b’fhéidir, dá bhfánfainn san áit ina bhfuil mé gan chos nó lamh a bhogadh, dhéanfadh Séan dearmhad dom agus imeacht ar a scar féinig an mhaidin seo? Bhí mórán oibre le déanamh agam, really. Tá cuma air anois go bhfuil sé go maith gnóthach, a’s gur chuma leis cad a dhéanfainn-se."

Cóiscéim amháin i dtreo an bhaile agam, áfach, agus bhíodh sé le’m chois. Chun é a choimeád sa choill cuíseach congarach don teach s’againne – áit go mbeadh saor ó choyotes agus daoine – thugas faoi obair ann. Cnuasaigh mé beartanna mór de géaga móra a thit as na crainn, mar ábhar tine. Dhineas (Rinne mé) iad a cruachadh, tar eis dom iad a ghearradh comthrom. Thugas faoi ndeara go raibh mórán giuis bheaga marbh ina seasamh, agus leagas iad, agus d’ullaigh mar ábhar tine. Thugas faoi ndeara freisin gur thaithnigh cort tirim an bhile feá ó ghéaga a bhí cheana féin ar an dtalamh, go raibh an cort ag titim díbh, gur thaithnigh siad leis an mbuachaill, agus bhailíos (bhailigh mé) malaí de. (Ar nós crisps do fhia iad, dúirt mo bhean.)  D’fhoghlaim mé cé’n sort luibheanna, cé’n sort duileoga a thaithin leis, agus cá bhfaighfaí sa choill iad sin. Chaithimís an aga a lorg, agus a ithe nó a bhailiú.

Caitheamh aimsire brea, sa deireadh, agus an chuid a’b fheárr den lá

An ea? Tochailt sa choill in éineacht le fia?

Bhí dhá chuis leis, go bhfios dom. Ag obair as láimh a chéile a bheimís. Thuigeamar a chéile, i dtreo nach ghá focal a rá, cuid is mó den am. Uair taobh le taobh ag obair; uair eile, a’s is ar éigin a bhíodh radharc agam ar Sheán. Tá sásamh aigne in obair den tsaghas san in áit ina bhfuil a t-aer chomh milis le h-iocslainte sean-scéil; áit go líontar radharc, cluas a’s eile le hailleacht. Crainn mhóra a’s cinn bheaga; carraigeacha glasa loma; cré solashmar donn. Ciúneas, ach amháin ceol na n-éan agus luascadh gaoithe. Théith smaointe duairc, agus líon mo spiorád le solas.

Ba é Sean féin an tarna fáth a bhí leis. Mairtineach beag fia, ar strae óna chineál féin a b’ea é, ach bhíodh sé lán sport i gcónaí, a’s é dea-chríoch, lán géan  Ba bhreá leis rith, léim, agus cleasaíocht, agus é ag iarraidh orm mise a bheith mar phairtí leis sa rudaí san--ach ceart chomh  sásta nuair na raibh ionam a bheith.  Niorbh aon choileán é Seán, ná peata gadhair nó gabhair, áfach.  Ainimhí fiain a’b ea é, gach aon bhlúire de. Ag féachaint isteach ina shúile, ní fhéadfainn gan aithint gur neach é nár tógadh le bia stáin, a’s gur le saol eile a bhain sé, a’s é lom-direach, cruinn, folláin ann féin i slí na bíonn an chuid is mó desna daoine nó in ainimhithe “baile”..

Suile donna dorcha a bhí air, agus doimhneacht iontach iontu.

Bhain Seán leis an saol ‘lasmuigh:’ lasmuigh desna sráideanna agus desna pairceanna saothraithe; lasmuigh den teach (nó inneall) mór seo ina maireann furmhór an chine daonna go bhfuil airgead acu. Bhain sé leis an saol fiáin: saol atá neamhspleach  ar mhianta an chine daona agus beag-beann orthu: saol gur chuma leis pé acu an bhfuilimid ar ár suaimhneas ann, nó na fuil. Saol géar dáiríre, a’s faobhair air faoi mar a bheadh ar chlaidhimh. Ní bhíonn ag patachán coinín, abair,  ach b’fhéidir seans amháin sugradh sa mhónéir gan áire a thabhairt dona bhfuil timpeall air. An té na tabhrann áire, maróidh seabhac nó sionnach é ar áit na mbonn.  

Is annamh  a bhuailimid leis an saol san sa lá atá inniú ann, ach tá sé ann i gcónaí: amuigh san oíche, sa choill, sa riasc, sa bhfál, inár gcorp fèin agus inár n-aigne féin. Tá sé ann le chead an chine daona, dár linn, ach n’fheadar…

Buann dlíthe an tsaoil sin ar ár ndlíthe-se, agus is cuma má fhaighimid cruaidh dlìthe an tsaoil fiáin, ní féidir canceling a dhéanamh orthu. Rithfidh Dáil nó Congress dlí agus dlí eile a chuireann i gcoinne dlíthe an saol fiáin, ach is cuma.  Cé go dtabhrann an teach mór ina bhfuilimid inár gconaí faoiseamh duinne thar an méid a faigheann an coinín, ní bhíonn ann ach tamall, mar sa tsaol eile sin a mhairimid-ne chomh maith le cách. An sibhialtacht a iarran maireáchtaint beag-bheann ar dlíthe an tsaol sin, tiocfaidh deireadh ainnis lena réim.Meileann muilte Dé go mall, ach meileann go mín.

Tá an saol sin cruaidh, ceart go leor. Nìl sé faireálta. 

Nach mar thoradh ar an méid sin a thóg an cine daonna saol dó féin, saol nios cinealta fear, nios deise, chun éirí amach as ár fuilteach saoil an Nadúir? An bhfuilim ag moladh go gcaithfimid uainn antibiotics, leabhair, fo-èadaigh, agus mar sin de, agus filleadh ar an Nadúr?

Nílim.

Táimid ag teitheadh leis na cianta anois ó ‘Nature red in tooth and claw, agus d’éirigh linn teach brea fairsing compórdach  a thógaint duinn féin, áit ina mbímid saor ón ár atá lasmuigh. Ach is ar ghaineamh a tógadh an teach mór, mar tógadh beag-beann ar dlíthe Nadúir é, agus tá an teach ag titim as a chéile anois le hAthrú Aeráide, a’s truailliú aer, uisce agus talamh. Tá an saol eile  – saol ‘Nadúir”, an saol fiáin –isteach an doras chugainn, agus cochall air, mar dhea.

Abhar scannradh, agus ní haon ionadh gur bhfearr linn casadh uaidh i ndóchas go n-aimseóidh  ár gcinn urra leigheas don rud atá ag tarlú. B’fhearr casadh ar an idirlíon, áit go bhféadfaí canceling a dhéanamh ar rud na taithníonn linn.

Duine acu siúd a theith, mise freisin. Cé go bhfuil conaí ormsa agus ar mo bhean i measc na gcoillte, b’annamh istigh ionntu mé. Ba mhinicí mé ag siúil sraideanna an bhaile mhóir, nó os comhair an ríomhaire.

Pé acu ceart nó cearr an saol amuigh, sé an saol i gcónaí é, agus níl aon cheann eile ann. Tá scannradh sa tsaol san na féadfaí a sheanadh, ach tá saibhreas a’s sástacht aigne and gliondar ann freisin, i slí na fuil san teach mór in aon chor, aon chor. Tá sástacht aigne ann nuair a tuigtear go bhfuil do chósa ar an dtalamh sa deireadh, mar dèarfá, agus na fuiltear ar strae i mbréag-ríocht bhaoth-aislingí siorcas an idirlíon. Tá saghas  saoirse ann, maireáchtaint i saol a bhíonn cruaidh uaireannta, ach atá fíor .

Rud eile: gach diail noimeád a mhairimid, iarran an saol san orainn tabhairt faoi ndéara go mairimid ar scáth a chéile, pé acu daoine, ainimhithe, nó eile. Iarran orainn tuiscint nach ‘rudaí’ na neachanna eile sin, agus gan de thabhacht iontu ach chomh fada a’s a bhaineann siad lenár ndualgaisí agus lenár mianta féin. Iarrann orainn an tsolas ghlórmhar a thaitníonn iontu súd agus tríthu siúd agus trís an saol san ar fad, a aithint.

Is annamh a thúgaimid faoi ndéara aon cheann de na rudaí sin a luaim, áfach, go minic toisc go bhfuil brú agus dithineas ro-mhór orainn: an ghnáth-shaol faoi mar a caitear san lá atá inniú, an dtuigeann tú…Ar strae ar an idir-líon a bhímid, nó ar strae inár gcuid smaointe féin, nó ag strachailt leis an saol, ag iarraidh dothain airgid a thuilleamh.

Bhí de bhua ag Sean na féadfaí, agus tamall a chaitheamh ina fhochair, féachaint air mar “rud.” Ní fhéadfaí gan an fíor-shaol – an seana-shaol -- a aithint. Ar talamh an tseana-shaol a sheas sé. 

Ní ag tagairt do sheana-shaol bocht an chruatain faoi mar bhí in Eirinn san 19u Aois atáim, ach don fhíor Sheana-Shaol: saol díreach, chomhachtach, solasmhar, neamh-scagaithe (mar déarfá,): an saol “fiáin.” Thugadh Seán mo dhúshlán, mise tabhairt faoi ndeara go mairim-se a’s gach aon duine eile sa tsaol san i gcónaí. Chuireadh sé de fhiachaint (de dhualgas) orm noitís a thógaint den tsaol san, a’s ligint do mo chuid  chúramaí a’s mo dhúil i dul chun cinn agus i dtae agus i’m mianta féin  titim uaim. Níl sa rudaí sin ach ceo, mar deireadh na sean-daoine. Tá fuascailt do-chreidte ann do dhuine, ligint  dá chuid tuairimí féin, dá fonn a’s eagla, titim uaidh, a’s éirigh as an síor fuirse agus an síor-lorg, agus aithint an ciúnas óllmhór atá laistiar de gach ní: an solas gliondnrach san.

Nílim ag rá gur pharty beag deas atá ann – soláistií agus bronntanaisí. Tá bás ann a’s briseadh chroí. Bíonn droch-sheans ann, agus aicíd, agus eile.

Sé an saol é, áfach. An saol ceart; an saol fírinneach: an seana-shaol fiáin.  

Sa deireadh, ní dideán ar an mbás ár dteach mór brea, ár n-inneall, ár n-intleacht, ár saibhreas. Tabharfaidh an bás amach sinn, dár ndeoin nó dár n-aindeoin. Ní dul as ag duine ar bith againn.

Nach fearr an tseana-shaol a fhoghlaim sula gcaitear amach ann sinn arís, a’s sinne chomh dall air mar shaol, le bunóc nua-bheirithe?

Formhór na ndaoine a tháinic romhainn, bhíodar oilte ar na cúrsaísin. Ní raibh aon dul as acu.

 Shilfeadh aonfhear gur dil do fein me nuair a luionn do'm mionn

a's go dteann dha dtrian sios diom nuair a smaoinim ar do chomhra liom;
sneachta siobhtha a's e a shiorchur faoi Shliabh Ui Fhloinn
a's go bhfuil mo ghra-sa mar bhlath na n-airni ar an droighheann donn.

Shil me fein nach ag ceasacht spre orm a rachadh gra mo chroi,
a's nach bhfuigfeadh se ina dhiadh me mar gheall ar mhaoin;
fa-raor gear nach bhfuilim fein a's an fear a chraigh mo chroi
a ngleanntan sleibhe i bhfad o einneach a's an an drucht 'na lui,

Ta feirin le me cheadshearc i mo phoca thios
a's fearaibh Eireann, ni leigheasfaidis mo bhron, fa-raor.
nuair a smaoinimse ar a chursai a's ar a chul brea donn,
bim ag gearghol os iseal a's og osnail go trom.....

 

Sea, chaithainnse filleadh ar an dtigh gach maidin, agus chaithainn ligint do Shean an lá a chaitheamh sa choill mhór dó féin. Ní bó é no gabhair, tar eis an tsaoil. Gach lá, d’filleadh sé um a 5 a chloig tráthnóna, agus b’é an diail é, é a choimeád as an ngairdín againn ansin. Bíonn blas ar duilleóga trataí agus arugula! Chun a áire a thabhairt ón arugula, ghlan mé cósáin tríd an raithneach agus na driseóga i móinéar eile taobh thiar den teach againn, agus d’aimsíomar mórán luibheanna deasa ann (Crainn bheithe; Lus na sead, agus eile), i dtreo gur chomh-tharraingteach an móinéar agus an gairdín.

Saol deas.

Bhí a fhios agam go raghadh sé faoi reith sa bhFomhair, agus go dtréigfeadh an chiall é, agus gan aon ní ar a áire ach ban-fhia: baol ann go n-ionsíodh sé rud ar bith a chuirfeadh bac air. Ba chuma liom fia beag martraithe dul i gleic le crann, ach coyote nó duine: sin scéal eile. Agus dá raghadh sé ar strae…

Ní raibh aon dul as againn, áfach, agus ní raibh le déanamh agam ach mo dhicheall. D’ullaímar pubal níos mó dó, don gheimridh a bhí le teacht.

Sos beag anois, agus Over to you, a Dhonnchaidh

A’s an minnean riabhach bu luime cliathach, le chuinnean fiadhta, as fiadhaich ceann, (Smooth: nostrils)

‘na chadal guamach an lagan uaigneach. Fo bhárr na luachrach ‘na chuairteig chruinn. (neat, comfortable)

 

(ó Oran Coire a’ Cheathaich le Donnchaidh Bán Mac an tSaoir)

 

Bidh gach frith gu líontach feurach, ‘S thèid na fèidh ‘nan èideadh suaicheanta (coill; full: distinctive)

Gu h-uallach binneach ceumannach ged-leumanach bior-chluaiseanach

Gu crócach cabrach cèirghealach, gu magach eangach èildeagach (quickfooted: white-rumped: many hinds: many fawns)

Gan grianadh sa mhíos Chèiteannach, air slios an t-slèibh mun cuairtaich iad… (May; )

 

Bidh am minnean úrar meanbhbhallach gnos tioram air a’ ghnúis bu sgeinmeile, (fine-spotted; inquisitive)

Gu mireanach lúthmhar anmadail, ri slinnean na h-earb an guailleachan: (doe; accompanying)

Bu chlis feadh pris mu anmoch iad, gu tric fo iochd nam meanbhchuileag: (quick: thickets: midges)

Gu sgideil gibeach gearrmhasach, an sliochd dh’an ainm na ruadhagan… (lively, trim)

(An scéal arís)

Mí ó shin, níor tháinig an buachaill abhaile ag an gnáth-am. Tamall ina dhiadh sin, d’airios (chuala mé) duine ag lámhach i gcuid eile den choill. Ní cheadaítear lamhach fia ach amháin sa tséasúr, ach bhí cuma aisteach ar Sheáin, a’s a cheann ar fiarsceo, a’s rith greannúr faoi. Tharlódh go lámhfadh duine é ar an dtuiscint go raibh aicíd ar an bhfia.

Chuairtíomar na coillte, ag glaoch air ina ainm, ach níor aimsíomar é, a’s níor tháinig abhaile. D’fhan an mias choirce ann gan aoinne a bhaint leis: lá, dhá lá, trí lá. Bhíomar riamh ag súil go n-éiródh leis filleadh ar gnáth-shaol a chomhlacaithe ar an gcoill, cè gur lag é an dóchas sin, dáiríre: bhíodh dua air féir nó aon ní eile a bhaint den talamh, a bheathadh féin. Bheadh cabhair éigin uaidh teacht i dtír, fad a shaoil. Bheimis brea sásta an chabhair sin a sholáthar dó, go háirithe ón uair a’s  go raibhh ceacht  ro-luachmhar a theagasc aige duinne, ach...Ní mar a síltear, a bítear.

Gach uair a raghainn amach ar chúl a’ tighe i rith na chéad seachtaine sin, mheasainn go bhfeacainn é sna gnáth-loganna ann. Ní raibh ann ach mo chuid smaointe féin ag iarraidh an saol a mhunlú de reir a mhian féin.  

Níor fhill Seán.

Sciortann an aimsir tharis orainn, agus le himeacht aimsire, téann sna cuimhní chinn a d’fhag Seán ina dhiadh. Bíonn an saol mór – saol seomra oifige: saol rachmhasach dall ár linne – ag brú timpeall orm arís, a’m mhúchadh agus a’m dhalladh. Níl de leigheas air ach teitheadh isteach san idirlíon arís.

Ach creidim anois gur shaol taibhse an gnáth-shaol faoi mar a caitear é, cuid is mó den am, sa lá atá inniú ann. Tá an saol gliondarach eile ann i gcónaí  áfach – an tseana-shaol fiáin agus an saol ceart -- bíodh a’s gur annamh a túgtar faoi ndéara é.

Tháinig Seán i bhfoirithint orm, ach d’imigh.

N’fheadar nárbh fheáirrde ár saol, sinne a bheith chomh gear-shúileach agus i lathair leis siúd, pe acu sa choill, nó san oifig é? Tá an sean-shaol lom dáiríre, chomh-mór iontaisí le haon sean-scéal nó scannán: chomh mór dainséar freisin. Iarran sé orainn féachaint air. Iarran orainn ár gcroíthe a oscailt dó, a’s ár meanma. Tá an ghrian ann i gcónaí; tá lá agus oíche; tá creatúri, gach duine acu lán scéalta duinn.

Tús na ruda, éirí amach as seomraí cúnga an idir-líon, a’s aghaidh a thabhairt ar an saol. Bhí d’ádh agam gur chuir Seán d’fhiachaint orm éirí, agus gur roinn tamall dá bheatha liom. Ormsa anois leanúint ar aghaidh, nó titim i’m chodladh arís.

(Rexroth a's a inion um 1950)

 

A Sword in a Cloud of Light

Your hand in mine, we walk out

To watch the Christmas Eve crowds

On Fillmore Street, the Negro

District. The night is thick with

Frost. The people hurry, wreathed

In their smoky breaths. Before

The shop windows, the children

Jump up and down with spangled

Eyes. Santa Clauses ring bells,

Cars stall and honk. Street cars clang.

Loud speakers on the lampposts

Sing carols, on juke boxes

In the bars, Louis Armstrong

Plays White Christmas. In the joints

The girls strip and grind and bump

To Jingle Bells. Overhead

The neon signs scribble and

Erase and scribble again

Messages of avarice

Joy, fear, hygiene and the proud

Names of the middle classes.

The moon beams like a pudding.

We stop at the major corner

And look up, diagonally

Across, at the rising moon

And the solemn, orderly

Vast winter constellations.

You say, “There’s Orion!”

The most beautiful object

Either of us will ever

Know in the world or in life

Stands in the moonlit empty

Heavens, over the swarming

Men, women and children, black

And white, joyous and greedy,

Evil and good, buyer and

Seller, master and victim,

Like some immense theorem,

Which, if once solved, would forever

Solve the mystery and pain

Under the bells and spangles.

There he is, the man of the

Night before Christmas, spread out

On the sky like a true god

In whom it would only be

Necessary to believe

A little. I am fifty

And you are five. It would do

No good to say this and it

May do no good to write it.

Believe in Orion. Believe in the night, the moon, the crowded

Earth. Believe in Christmas and

Birthdays and Easter rabbits. Believe in all those fugitive

Compounds of nature, all doomed

To waste away and go out.

Always be true to these things.

They are all there is. Never

Give up this savage religion

For the blood-drenched civilized

Abstractions of the rascals

Who live by killing you and me.

 From the book In Defense of the Earth, published in 1956.

 

  Laghan                                                                                              Laws

 

An-diugh                                                                                                 Today

Theid me dhan a’ mhonadh a-rithist                                                        I’ll go to the moor again

A choiseachd leis a’ chú                                                                          to walk the dog

(feumaidh neach a leisgeul                                                                     (One needs one’s excuse

Airson a bhith leis fhéin,)                                                                        to be alone)

 agus bidh am baile air mo chúlaibh                                                       the village behind me

Airson greis,                                                                                            for a time,

Gleadraich sluaigh agus a laghan.                                                          The clamour of people and their                                                                                                                     laws

Agus ann a seo, chí mi lagh eile,                                                            And here I see another law,

Lagh náduir, bith a’ stri gus a bhith                                                        nature’s law, being striving to be,

Agus bóidheach anns a’ chuid as motha,                                                and beautiful for the most part,

Gun ceart no ceárr a’ bonntain leis.                                                         Not touched by right or wrong.

 

Bu toigh leam riamh rudan fiadhaich:                                                     I always liked wild things,

Lusan a’ fás gun faighneachd,                                                                  plants growing without asking

Frainneach is fraoch le flúr…                                                                  bracken and heather and flower,

Agus gun teagamh, bidh tusa air m’inntinn,                                            and certainly I will be thinking of                                                                                                                     you…

 From the book Bailtean (Maoilios M. Caimbeul),Gairm, 1987.

A Catalogue of the Dying

Does it matter that, in our age, so much that is good is being lost?

What is being lost, you ask?

There's a lot could be said, but I think that here I an obliged to insert a translation of Welsh poet Waldo Williams' well-known poem:

Remembrance (Cofio)

One fleeting moment as the sun is setting,
One gentle moment as the night falls fast,
To bring to mind the things that are forgotten,
Now scattered in the dust of ages past.

Like white-foamed waves that break on lonely beaches

Like the wind’s song where no one hears the wind,

They beckon us, I know, but to no purpose –

The old forgotten things of humankind.

The artistry and skills of early peoples,

Small dwelling-places and enormous halls,

Old well-told tales that have been lost for ages,

The gods that now no mortal could recall.

And little words of languages long-vanished,

Lithe words once lively on the lips of men,

And pretty in the prattle of small children,

No tongue will ever utter them again.

Oh, earth’s innumerable generations,

Their sacred dreams and fragile sanctity,

Is the heart silent that was once acquainted

With sadness and with gladness and with glee ?

Often at close of day, when I am lonely,

I long to know you all, bring all to mind;

is there a heart or memory still to cherish

The old forgotten things of humankind?

Translated by Alan Lwyd

Okay, Celtic languages...Pointless in the modern world, obscure, useful only as material for fantasy writers, So what does it matter that the communities that spoke them are dead or dying?

But French and German: everyone knows French and German etc... Or do they? Anyway, they're important! But what we think of as French and German are a triumph of soulless banality: constipated dead standards that used only to be spoken by bureaucrats and school teachers.

In most parts of Germany outside of the south and the far west, the various living local "Germans" that developed over centuries and were so much more lyrical and eloquent than the standard, have recently ceased to be used, as local societies have been incorporated into mass society.

The same has happened to an even greater extent in France, so that today, it's probably only in small parts of the Morvan and a few parts of the Vendee that these beautiful languages or whatever can still be heard. 

Walloon is stronger in Belgium, at least in the Liege province where there was a strongly-self-conscious local society until recently. In the isolated village of Evolene in Switzerland, Franco-Provencal is still spoken. Occitan in the southern third of France is a distinct language, though that is dying fast too. It is strongest (but no younger than middle-aged people) in central and north Perigord/Limousin, small bits of Correze, highland Bearn, the old Camisard area in the south of Lozere, the Occitan valleys in Italy, and Nice (maybe). It has now almost vanished everywhere else. There is a revival movement, but, like in Brittany,  it is mostly scattered middle-class urbanites.)

Here is a story in Franco-Provencal (Arpitan), until recently the language of Savoy province (France), 'French"-speaking Switzerland and many mountain valleys in Piedmont province, Italy, including Val d'Aosta.

Bavarian/Bayerisch (A fake commercial based on an original about immigrant workers who can't speak German and get in difficulties because of that. Here the problem derives from not knowing Bavarian, which is actually not generally written.)

 
Walloon

But all of that is neither here nor there, or at least not here, because though the Celtic languages are in bad shape as well, even fewer people know the fact. In innocence and ignorance, they are thus spared the agonies of those who care.

If you, however, lie awake at night wishing you knew something about Sutherlandshire Gaelic or Tipperary Irish, relief is at hand. 

Even if you don't, there are bits here that might be interesting.

First, Irish: (videos below)

Below is a link to the list of podcasts of the Rileanna agus Teipeanna RTE radio program. These are radio programs from the 1950s and 1960s mostly, recorded in the field,  and feature native Irish speakers from many parts of the country. You'll see, for example, that some of the first programs feature County Clare.

http://www.rte.ie/radio1/podcast/podcast_rileanna.xml

"Comhra" is a weekly interview show from TG4, and a lot of individual programs are on YouTube. Most of the people interviewed are native speakers, and there are English subtitles.

TG4, the Irish language TV channel, is often not a good source, aside from newscasters etc. There are a lot of people in Ireland who speak Irish like it was English, and whose knowledge of the language is weak. A fair number of them show up on TG4 programs.

So what does Irish sound like? People have spoken of the terse lyricism of west Munster, and of east Munster as more sonorous, round and slow. County Cork sounds like south Welsh--singing and fast--to the extent that there is a project to compare the mechanics of the two dialects. As one traveled from north Kerry to Clare to Galway, a musical steadiness develops that continues into east Mayo and south Roscommon. West Connacht has its own pattern that is hard to describe, but very distinctive. Conamara is an example of this, as is the video from Kilgalligan below. Southeast Conamara also has some Munster influence in aspects of phonology, so, though very well-known, is not a good representative of Connacht dialects.

I mentioned north Roscommon etc. The dialects of North Leitrim, west Cavan and Fermanagh south of Loch Erne formed a sort of transition toward Ulster, though still sounding 'Connacht' to Ulster speakers. Some of the last speakers from there described Ulster speech  as 'hard-sounding', and it's easy to hear what they meant. Donegal in the west is more lyrical than most of Ulster, though the word 'metallic' has been used to describe even it. Northeast Ulster (Antrim) moves toward Scots Gaelic, while southeast Ulster/Louth, north Meath is short, offhand and nasal.

Examples: Dingle peninsula, West Kerry, Munster

Below, Gaoth Dobhair, Northwest Donegal

Below, West Cork (Baile Mhuirne)

Below, a storyteller from Kilgalligan, Du(mha) Chaochain, Erris, west Mayo.

http://doegen.ie/LA_1209d2  A link to the Doegen Records Project and a Tyrone storyteller.

And Welsh.

The man interviewed below is from Llanbrynmair, Montgomeryshire, and the dialect is just about halfway betweren north and south, perhaps a little more south. I always remember the first sight of Llanbrynmair in a valley among the moors and mountains....

Girls from near Caernarfon town (I suspect) (North) discussing a poem.

A woman from the southwest. (Eglwyswrw, Pembrokeshre, but near Cardigan town, and transition toward Cardiganshire dialect.)

A little story heard in Pembrokeshire: Times were hard, and this man had to start begging in order to live. He begged his way through North Pembrokeshire first, going with a bit of an old dry cow pat to houses, and asking for a pinch of salt to put on it so he could eat it more easily. "Oh, God help us and save us!" people would tell him. "To think a man would be reduced to eating such a thing! Come in and share an actual meal with us." He was living well until he reached the Cardiganshire border. First house he came to, he gave them the usual story. The man of the house looked at him. "I can't spare any salt. but you don't have to eat that old thing when there are fresh cowpats up in the bothy that I've no use for." (Cardis are supposed to be mean.)

This is no reflection on the people of Eglwyswrw. They are, after all, on the Pembrokeshire side of the border.

Below is Central Glamorgan (Llangynwyd). After the song, the man does his best to speak Standard Welsh, but does not always succeed.

North Pembrokeshire is twinned with Cork, though neither know it.

Scottish Gaelic:

A woman from South Uist discussing her duties in the Ceolas music program. South Uist Gaelic is related to that of Lochaber (see below) on the mainland.

Above, a minister from Lewis. A little different, eh? The Vikings are often credited with major influence in Lewis, though the minister doesn't sound like any Norwegian I've heard. The cadence, in fact, is what I think of as northwest Donegal. Sutherland Gaelic, on the other hand, has 'Norse vowels', and it is a more likely that Norse influenced that dialect more than Lewis. 

And below, a compilaton of funny bits from Gaelic television, featuring people from various parts of the mainly Outer Hebrides. (Includes English sub-titles.)

Brittany

A storyteller from the borders of Tregor province and Kerne province (Cornaouilles). 

Below, a storyteller from east Leon in the northwest.

Below, an old farmer from central Brittany.

Below, a man from Arzano near Lorient speaking Vannetais (southeast) dialect.

Below, memories from some older women from Tregor province (Plouared village) about going to school as mostly monolingual Breton speakers, and punished for speaking Breton there. Inland Tregor was the last large area in which Breton remained the normal language, so that most people over about forty/forty-five today were raised in it and French. Be aware that a chicken is killed at minute 12.

To finish, "Going Along Singing", a subtitled in English long film about Yann-Fanch Kemener, a great and a well-known singer from St Trephine in the east center of Brittany who recently died fairly young. The dialect is a very interesting mix of Vannetais (from the south), central Breton, and also the old dialect of northeast Brittany that survived into the present only in this area and in a strip one or two villages wide, northeast to Plouha. East is now all French for a few hundred years.

OK, now for the seriously boring stuff.

Resources

In 1928, the Irish government invited professor Doegen, who had pioneered the sound recording of language, to come to Ireland. Doegen had previously recorded English dialects from prisoners of war during the First World War.     http://sounds.bl.uk/Accents-and-dialects/Berliner-Lautarchiv-British-and-Commonwealth-recordings/021M-C1315X0001XX-0399V0
(Wiltshire) These recordings are available on the British Library site and document some equally vanished English local speech. The records he made sat in Dublin (the set he took back to Germany disappeared after WWII, as far as I know) gathering dust, pretty much forgotten, until a few years ago when the Royal Irish Academy made them available on-line at the Doegen Records Project site.

http://www.doegen.ie/

Many of you will know of this site. Doegen or the government mainly seem to have been interested in people who had folktales or songs, and then they also missed some areas where there were still Irish speakers at that time, like south and mid Clare, west Limerick, southeast Limerick, north Kerry, south Galway (Gort etc.), many parts of Mayo, south Cavan (Lough Ramor area), Monaghan county, south Kilkenny and possibly, if they looked hard, north Meath. Still, there are otherwise no recordings of the Irish of many areas that they did get. Unfortunately, in some places they recorded only songs, so there's no record of actual speech.

The one thing not available on the site is a listing of speakers by parish and area below that of the county. It's therefore difficult to find speakers for an area smaller than a county. Here are listings I have made. Place is on left, name of speaker on right.

The recordings on the site have texts and translation too.

Co. Waterford
Island (west of Stradbally on the coast)         De Breit    http://www.doegen.ie/LA_1060d1
Ballynamult                                                    O Cadhla
Bohadoon (Slieve gCua)                                O Corcrain
An Rinn                                                          Turraoin; O Droma; O Cionnfhaolaidh, M
They missed the Lismore area, plus !

Tipperary, south (Ardfinnan)                       O Liathain

Cork
Imokilly barony, by Waterford                       Breathnach, Seamas
Muskerry West; Clondrohid                            O Luinneachain
                            Cuil Ao                                O Ceilleachair, O loinsigh, O Cruaidhlaoich
                             Ballingeary                          Mac Coitir
Beare peninsula, Glengarrif                             O Scolai
                             Adrigole                              O Suilleabhain, Pr. and O hArachtain
                             west Beare                           O Laoire, Mich
Carbery, Cape Clear                                         O Siothchain
(They missed Clonakilty, Skibbereen, Glandore, etc. etc.)

Kerry
East, Mt. Eagle, near Co Cork                            Breathnach, T (born 1839)
Milltown (Fybagh)                                              O Cathalain
Killarney                                                             O Conchuir, Seamas
Ivreagh peninsula:
    Ballinskellig                                                    O Ceallaigh and O Conaill
    Waterville                                                        Mac Coluim
    Caherdonal                                                      O Seaghdha, T
    Inland from Sneem                                          O Gealbhain, Aindreas
Dingle peninsula
   Cloghan                                                             O Ruairc
   Lispole                                                              O hAinefein
   Dunquin  (ie far west)                                       O Dalaigh and Mac Gearailt


South Donegal
Southwest: Glencolumcille                            Campbell
                   Teelin                                           Mac Seain; O Caiside
                   Ardara                                          McConnell; O Gallchobhair, T

near Donegal town: Tawnawully                     O Creag  http://www.doegen.ie/LA_1263d1
Gweebarra/Ballyfinn                                       Ni Dhomhnaill and O Baoill

Clare, north
Luach, Doolin                                                  Carun and O Dileain
Doolin itself                                                     Shannon and O hEilire
Aughanish, near Galway                                 MagFhloinn

Donegal, Inishowen                                        Mac Giolla Chearra I and II

East Galway
Northeast: Camderry                                         O Lochain   http://www.doegen.ie/LA_1178d1
Lisheennahelite (Glenamaddy)                         O Maoilchiarain
Ballygar/Newbridge                                           Mulrooney
Abbeyknockmoy (Grandma's parish!)               O Murchadha, M
Ballyclare                                                           Mulryan; O Coincheannain, M; O Neill
east shore Loch Corrib                                       O Collain, S; O Lonnain
Galway town                                                      Nolan
Tawin Island                                                      O Fathaigh  

Sligo
southwest: Curry                                                 McEvey
other southwest                                                   O Cearbhaill and O hAra
border with Mayo                                                Mac an Deisigh
north of Sligo town; Grange                               O Coisdealbha

Roscommon, west                                              Sarsfield and Ganley 

Mayo
South: between Cong and Neale                          O Gioballain, S
            west of Ballinrobe                                    O Murchadha, E
            Tourmakeady                                          O Meadhra, P
East: Kilmovee                                                     O Ceallachain
          Tamhach, between Charlestown and Knock    O Dubhthaigh

Southwest: Mulraney                                              Ni Mhaille, B and O Ceallaigh, T
Acaill                                                                       Mac Giolla Bhain
Inishbiggle                                                               O hEinirigh
Erris: Ballycroy                                                        MacMeanmain, Padr. and McGinty
           Doohooma                                                     Mag Uidhir, p
           Inis Ge                                                           Breathnach, Padr.
           Carrowteigue                                                 O Dubhagain
           Mweennabo                                                   O Neachtain
           Binghamstown                                              O Monachain

Donegal, north
Leitir Catha, Dungloe                                              O Baoill, Padr
Lochanure                                                                 O Baoill, P.
Rannafast                                                                  Ni Mhuireadhaigh and Mac Grianna                                                                                                              and O Donaill
Gweedore,Crolly                                                       Ni Chumaill
Gweedore, Tor                                                           O  Connachain
Gort a Choirce:
Machaire  Rabhartaigh                                              O Congalaigh

Blogger is doing very strange things with formatting, so I'll list the rest as best I can....

Other Gort a Choirce are O Cuirreain and O Dubhthaigh, A
Tory is Mac an Bhaird, S
Downings  are O Gallchobhair, D and O Siadhail
east Fanad are Mac Congalaigh, P and Nic Chongalaigh
Inishowen listed above
(They missed Na Cruacha, Aranmore, Fintown etc.)

West Galway

Cornamona
    Breathnach (born 1867), Brun and O Suilleabhain, Padr
Maam is Breathnach, M
Oughterard is O hAllmhurain
Killary is Ruddy and O Caodhain
west of Clifden is Mac Con Fhaola, Sean
Northwest of Carna peninsula is O Niadh, T
Carna itseld is Mac Con Iomaire, T (born 1874)
Roscmuc is O Mainnin and O Niadh, P
Camas is Mac Con Iomaire, T (born 1916)
Casla is O Gabhain
Lettermullan is O Direain
Spiddle is O Tuairisc
Inishmore is O Direain
Inis Meain is O Conceannain, P.

Louth, Omeath peninsula is Ni Ghuibhirin and Ni Chaslaigh and Mac Cuarta

Tyrone, Sperrin mountains is O Ciannain and Nic Ruaidhri
Tyrone, west (Castlederg) is O Gallchobhair

Cavan is all Glengevlin, the far west, which was originally a part of Leitrim. They missed Lough Ramor)

Derry is all one area, Draperstown etc., east of the Sperrin mountains (Tyrone)

Leitrim is all one area, and they only recorded songs (!!!).

Antrim is all the Glens

Armagh is all the Fews in the far south, and mostly songs (!!!).

Particularly interesting (to me) are recordings from Cill Mo Bhi (Kilmovee), far northeast Mayo, and the two speakers from northwest Roscommon. http://www.doegen.ie/LA_1136g1 These are records of an interesting dialect area that took in north Roscommon, south Leitrim and Longford, also influencing northeast Galway. The accentuation was generally of the "Munster" type, while vocabulary started to hint at what we think of as "Donegal."

Scotland

There is a great Scottish Gaelic resource as well, the Tobar a Dualchais site, for songs, foltales and lore. This derives mostly from recordings made in the 1950s through the present, but older generations throughout the whole Highlands from Perthshire to Sutherland still knew Gaelic then, so there is a huge geographical range of recordings. 

Perhaps the most characteristic Gaelic is/was that of the 'Lochaber' or Na Garbhchriochan ('Rough Countries') area; Fort William west to the sea, north to say, Fort Augustus and maybe Kintail (but more likely Knoydart), and south to Appin. Neither of the names I propose for the area are strictly accurate, but it is the area of the old MacDonal Lord of the Isles kingdom, minus Islay and Kintail. This is generally the sort of Gaelic heard in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, too, since many of the settlers there were fleeing clearances and hard times in 'Lochaber''.

Finding stuff on the site in terms of places can be challenging, like on the Doegen Records site. Here are names to look for in connection with certain places in "Lochaber":

The old Cameron country west of Fort William--Rebecca Stewart and Lexy Campbell.
Spean Bridge etc. (MacDonald country): Charles Cameron, John MacDonald
Moideart: Johanna MacDonald, Fergie MacDonald
Appin: Allan S. Gray, Ewan Carmicheal
Benderloch: Mrs. MacLucas, Hughie Mackenzie (not 'Lochaber', but it's very pretty....)
Ardgour: Archie Cameron
Glencoe: see below

http://www.tobarandualchais.co.uk/en/play/40325;jsessionid=9D2B5C361F102250823F0F53D9775320

On to Argyll. Here is a link to a story from Colonsay. The Gaelic of that island, neighboring Islay and Jura is beautiful.
http://www.tobarandualchais.co.uk/en/play/5826;jsessionid=50CE8A33A1A7AFEE88564A155B065C50


Now Dugald Smith from Islay. Islay Gaelic only really survives now in the Rhinns, ("Peninsulas") (southwest) today.

http://www.tobarandualchais.co.uk/play/5321

A story from Assynt, west Sutherlandshire, the dialect of which is between Sutherland and West Ross Gaelic.
http://www.tobarandualchais.co.uk/en/play/67980;jsessionid=9D2B5C361F102250823F0F53D9775320

A great travelling storyteller from the east side of Sutherland.

http://www.tobarandualchais.co.uk/en/play/34140;jsessionid=50CE8A33A1A7AFEE88564A155B065C50

Each recording on the site has a brief summary.

Brittany 

Here is a link to a resource, Banque Sonore des Dialects Bretones. It's all in French, but provides recordings of various Breton dialects, with a particular focus on a few areas (Sein, Gwened, SE Kerne...) that reflects the contributors' interests. The focus is grammatical, but fascinating. The main contributor has recently pulled all his contributions, so Sein is gone, etc.)

(OK, these links turn out not to take you directly to the tape. If you want to find the "Appalachian" one, for example, scroll down until you reach "6 Decembre 2015" then choose a tape and hit the arrow. Sorry!)

http://banque.sonore.breton.free.fr/nouveautes.html

Below is a link to a story from the area just southeast of Kemper. It too is beautiful. The Breton of that area makes me think of Appalachian mountaineers of the U.S. The link only takes you to the text. You need to hit the arrow to play the recording.

http://banque.sonore.breton.free.fr/shownews.php5

A link below to a bit from the northwest, Leon province. Beautiful!

http://banque.sonore.breton.free.fr/shownews.php5

Brezhoneg Digor has many many sound recordings) and transcripts of stories etc in the dialect of the Carhaix area (mostly north and east of the town.) It has a developing Dictionary of Central Breton . There's a YouTube channel too. This is all the most accessible of the Breton sites mentioned here.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y7u3j0HpgBQ

Below is a link to one recording (from Ar Trehou, borders of Leon and Kerne) of the hundreds done for the recent Breton Linguistic Atlas. Some of the tapes are posted on the Corpus de la Parole site. If you go there, you need to find the list of languages, then choose Breton, then choose from a long list of tapes. This is a great resource, though the quality of the tapes sometimes varies. Sometimes the batteries were running low....

http://corpusdelaparole.huma-num.fr/spip.php?article30&ldf_id=oai:crdo.vjf.cnrs.fr:crdo-BRE_JLD_021_1_A_SOUND

Oddly enough, the Celtic language of Wales which has been until the last five or ten years, the most vigorous of the Celtic languages, has very little available on-line. The Welsh folk museum posted short bits that originally accompanied a book on Welsh dialects. Here it is below.

The Dialects of Wales | National Museum Wales

There is some Manx stuff available on-line--well, one item--and you can find it on the Celtic Languages page on this blog.

Blind tests have shown that contemporary revived Cornish as spoken cannot be distinguished from English, by people who speak neither. (Cornish speakers are all native English speakers.) It is the only one of the Celtic languages which has no living tradition to draw on. So no resources listed here. Linguist Ken George knows Breton well and since it and Cornish are very similar, he uses Breton as a model for what Cornish sounded like.

There is information on Gaulish, Lepontic (northwestern Italy) and Spanish Celtic on the internet, but these languages died during the period of the late Roman empire and are very poorly recorded--only inscriptions, very short texts and names.

Below is a Swiss folk metal band that claims to sing in Gaulish. I don't know how accurate that claim is, and posting this video does not constitute an endorsement of the band, of folk, of metal, of hawks, cages, hurdy-gurdies, or Switzerland.

On to other things.

(After this post, I'll be switching to Irish. Threatened to do that last time, but I'm serious about it now. English is no proper home.)













                   

Confusion and Levity in the Black North

 

 

Few poems in the Celtic languages, including Irish, are narrative poems in the standard sense, nor do they fulfill the model of dramatic development that used to be the norm in modern Western literatures. The modern Western artist starts out at point A, where he or she states a theme or scenario. He then goes on to develop the tensions or conflicts inherent in this theme, and eventually arrives at a climax, where the tensions are resolved, or come to rest. The work then stops.

 

In Celtic and Irish poetry, however, the theme is rarely stated outright. The poem instead orbits around it, and the verses offer a succession of varying perspectives on the unstated theme. It is through the cumulative effect of these shifting illuminations that the “meaning” of the poem is precipitated--rather than announced-- in the reader/listener’s mind.  The poet doesn’t presume to say “This is the way it is; no ifs, buts or maybes. This is love; this is the story here.”

He or she rather suggests the outlines of something--the human heart, a particular configuration of relationships, a human being--that is perhaps too complex, ambiguous and mysterious for us know directly. This poetry demands that a reader/listener be a collaborator, rather than simple audience, or consumer of poetry. It demands that a reader/listener engage with the poem and bring it his/her own experience. Only then will the poem open for us.


Here's a song from Donegal. It was published in Dha Chead de Cheoltaibh Uladh, which was edited by Enri O Muirgheasa from County Monaghan in 1934: another great book and it used to be, at least, available from the Government Publications Office for very little money. This song and twenty-four others were sung by Eibhlin Ni Mhuireadhaigh of the Termon area where now no one can speak Irish. She herself never married.

Tá Daoine a’ Radh (People Are Saying)

People are saying that my beloved loves me,
indeed, if he does, well, that’s not unrequited.
In despite to my family and to most of my people,
I’ll satisfy my own little self, were I to live but a season after.

Seán, I thought that you would never leave me,
and I thought then that you’d never tell me a lie.
There’s no fish in Loch Eirne I wouldn’t prepare for your wedding, my love,
and if I could, I’d crown you King of Ireland or a duke in Spain.

I thought that the red rowan berry shone in your cheeks,
I thought that you were the morning star out before me,
you were the loveliest thing I’d see, when I went to the fair,
and dear friend, isn’t it a shame that you deserted me for the sake of dowry?

Don’t you remember that night you and I were in the wood;
there was no one in the world listening to us, only the trees;
the dew there was deepening and it was soaking our feet;
when the bird called out, the morning star shone over our heads.

There you are. I, for one, wouldn't accuse the song of having a conventional Western narrative structure.

This song is not current, and there are no recorded examples I know of. Below instead is an example of Donegal sean-nos singing from one of the greatest living singers from there, Lillis O Laoire. 







Another song from the same singer (Eibhlin Ni Mhuireadhaigh) and the same book. It's one of those simple songs, so don't expect horns and trumpets. I don't know where O Muireadhaigh's papers are today, but he said that he collected many songs from her that he did not put in the book. She deserves a book of her own.

 

 Is Fada Ó Bhaile (It's far from home)

 

It's a far from home that I’d recognize your stride,

your bright black hair under a neat jaunty hat,
the taste of honey on my love’s kiss every morning,
and I’ll be looking for you before November comes around again.

When I get up in the morning and go behind the house,
I spend a while gazing in the airt where I might see my dear.
But now that we’re parted, let them make me a narrow coffin,
and the nettle and green grass will grow through my heart.

Bear my curse to your father and to your mother too,
who didn’t teach you well enough so that you could know my mind:
early in the morning I’d send you an explanation,
to accept my apologies, until we’d meet alone in the wood.

Your eyes are greener than the grass when it's newest,
it's sure I’d weep forever if I heard you were ill;
The men of all Ireland gathered on the one hill,
it's you, my love, that I’d take by the hand, if I could.

Not a ballad.

The video below is also not the song in question, but it's beautiful music from Cor Thaobh a' Leitheid from Gaoth Dobhair (Gweedore). The song is An Bealach Cas Geal, though it's not actually even a song or poetry, as you'll find out.

Please be advised that I have received special permission from the Arts Council to post the following cheerful song. The Irish Language section of the Council stated that though the accepted theme for songs in Irish is sorrow, and that this is thought to be appropriate as a representation of the Irish-speaking community, exceptions can be made in rare instances. 

Baile an Doire, in the song below, is on the shores of Lough Neagh, in south county Antrim. I noted that I translated this song years ago from Ceolta Uladh I, edited by Nollaig O hUrmholtaigh, and that the song is taken from the Bunting collection. I will have to go searching through trunks to solve the mystery of Ceolta Uladh I. I have a photocopy of O'Sullivan's edition of the Bunting Collection of songs, but I don't remember this being in it. 

(Results of further researches: The only thing in Bunting is song #127 there (Vol 28-29, 1932), An Bile Buadhach, where it is noted that verse four of the song bears a resemblance to "Ceol Bhaile an Doire agus a Chronan" that was published in Clairseach na nGaedheal, Part III (1903), number 28; and also to a song O'Toole published  in An Crann, no. 2, p.21: March 1917; and to a song in Morris's Dha Chead de Cheoltaibh Uladh, p. 347. However, there is not anything resembling it in the edition of Morris that I have, the 1974 reprint.)

As regards Ceolta Uladh, I must have meant Ceolta Gael, edited by O Baoill. I once had a copy, but lent it to another, I remember, and never received it back, so cannot look there. But, to tell the truth... that is not likely: O Baoill is not O hUrmholtaigh, who did also, for example, write a book on the Irish of Tory, and therefore must exist, in which case, Ceolta Uladh may then also exist.

Has anyone seen it?

                                                           

Baile an Doire

It's wonderful to be in Baile’n Doire,
It's wonderful to be in Achadh Li;
More wonderful yet to be in Oilean a’ Reithe
sitting under the shade of the ivy trees.

Oh God, were that I was in Oilean a’ Reithe;
oh God, were that Feidhlimidh and I were free;
He’d be whistling while I sang a song,
and our racket would be heard all over the island.

It's wonderful to be in Baile’n Doire;
it's wonderful to be in Machair Lainn;
More wonderful yet to be in Oilean a’ Reithe,
with the birds singing at the top of every tree.

It's wonderful to be in Baile’n Doire;
it's wonderful to be wandering in Tuaim; 
More wonderful yet to be in Oilean a’ Reithe,
under the round tower that’s finest in the north.

It's wonderful to be in Baile’n Doire;
it's wonderful to be in Baile na Maigh;
More wonderful yet to be in Oilean a’ Reithe,
at the foot of the trees while they are flowering.

It's wonderful to be in Baile’n Doire;
it's wonderful to be on the loch of Port Mor;
More wonderful yet to be in Oilean a’ Reithe,
to be in the midst of the wood, making music.

All I can say is that they wouldn't get away with that in Conamara....

Just to recover from the levity above, here's a song from east Galway published in Amhrain Mhuighe Seola, edited by Mrs. Costello, published by Talbot Press in 1923. The book is the main published source for East Galway songs (Tuam area), a tradition that now has died, unless it's the occasional Irish song that Rita Keane of Caherlistrane who died recently, used to do. The fact of those deaths, I hope, will finish off any cheeriness left over from what's just above. My mother's grandmother was a native speaker from that area (Abbeyknockmoy), and I needn't mention that she is dead as well.

There's a somewhat recent cd of songs from this book, sung by revivalist singers, but it misses the boat, in my opinion.

The song was recorded from the Hession family.


Go Dtagadh an Nollaig  (Until Christmas Would Come)

Until Christmas will come in the middle of Summer,
until I run a race through the middle of Loch Riabhach,
until the shamrock grows through the boards of my coffin,
no portion of my love for you will depart from my heart.

I wish sorrow on this love, for it's a black affliction
it left my poor heart inside as black as the coal,
it left my poor head without a single ounce of sense,
and my mind and my courage are racing away from me.

 

 Rita and Sarah Keane, the younger Rita Keane's aunts, and from the same area, of course, sing in Irish in 1968.