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Mo Rùn Geal Dìleas

Mo rùn geal dìleas, dìleas, dìleas
Mo rùn geal dìleas nach till thu ‘nall
Cha till mi fhein leat, a ghaoil, cha’n fhaod mi,
‘S ann tha mo ghaol-sa na laidhe tinn.

Is truagh nach robh mi an riochd na faoilinn
A snàmhadh aotrom air bhàrr nan tonn;
Is bheirinn sgrìobag do’n eilean Ileach,
Far bheil an rìbhinn dh’fhàg m’inntinn trom.

Is truagh nach robh mi ‘s mo rogha cèile
Air mullach shlèibhte nam beanntan mòr,
‘S gun bhi ‘gar n-éisdeachd ach eoin na slèibhe,
‘S gun tugainn fhéin di na ceudan pòg.

Thug mi corr agus naoi mìosan
Anns na h-Innsean a b’fhaide thall,
‘S bean bòichead t’aodainn cha robh ri fhaotainn,
‘S ged gheibhinn saoghal cha’n fhanainn ann.

Thug mi mìos ann am fiabhrus claoidhte
Gun dùil rium oidhche gu’m bithinn beò;
B’e fàth mo smaointean a là ‘s a dh’oidhche,
Gu’m faighinn faochadh ‘us tu bhi ‘m chòir.

Cha bhi mi strìth ris a’ chraoibh nach lùb leam
Ged chinneadh ùbhlan air bhàrr gach gèig,
Mo shoraidh slàn leat ma rinn thu m’fhagail,
Cha d’thàinig tràigh gun mhuir làn ‘na dèigh.

English translation

My faithful fair darling,
My faithful fair darling, won’t you turn back to me;
I will not turn with you, my love, I cannot
For my beloved is lying ill.

I grieve I am not in the guise of a seagull,
Swimming light on top of the waves;
And I would journey to the island of Islay
Where tarries the maiden who vexes my soul.

I regret I am not with my own chosen mate,
On the mountaintop moorland
And no one to listen but the birds of the heath;
And hundreds of kisses I would give to her.

I took more than nine months
In the Indies so distant,
And a woman whose beauty like yours was unseen
And for all this world I would not stay there.

I spent a month in the torment of fever
When each night I did not expect to survive;
The object of my thoughts each day and night
That my request be granted and you at my side.

I will not struggle with the tree I can’t bend,
Though each bough be amply laden with apples;
My fond farewell to you if you have left me,
The sea never ebbs, but follows the flow

A Fisherman’s Son

I’m a fisherman’s son got fisherman’s ways
I fished with my father in my young days
I learned the fine craft of the fishermans trade
Just to pass to my son so he’ll do the same

The sea is my lifeline the shore is my home
I’ve been to your cities I didn’t stay long
I stared at the bright lights the dark city ways
I’ll tell you that’s not for me, no I couldn’t stay

Singin’
la la la la la la
la la la la la la la

Some days are rough so we roll with the waves
This living is tough and slack is the pay
But we leave with the sunrise we wake at the dawn
Singin’ the fisherman’s song

Singin’
la la la la la la
la la la la la la la

I’m a fisherman’s son got fisherman’s blood
Just hauling the lobster and jigging the cod
And if you don’t like me then leave me alone
And I’ll go on singing my fisherman’s song

Singin’
la la la la la la
la la la la la la la

I’m a fisherman’s son got fisherman’s ways
I fished with my father in my young days
I learned the fine craft of the fishermans trade
Just to pass to my son so he’ll do the same

Singin’
la la la la la la
la la la la la la la

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Joan of Arc

I know this now. Every man gives his life for what he believes. Every woman gives her life for what she believes. Sometimes people believe in little or nothing yet they give their lives to that little or nothing. One life is all we have and we live it as we believe in living it. And then it is gone. But to sacrifice what you are and live without belief, that's more terrible than dying.--

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Beannacht

On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.

And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green,
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.

John O'Donohue, Echoes of Memory