Текст и перевод песни Celtic Woman - Ard Uí Chuain / Sadhbh Ní Bhruinneallaigh (Live 2017)

Ard Uí Chuain / Sadhbh Ní Bhruinneallaigh (Live 2017)

Dá mbeinn féin in Aird Uí Chuain
In aice an tsléibhe atá i bhfad uaim
B'annamh liom gan dul ar cuairt
Go gleann na gcuach Dé Domhnaigh
Is iomaí Nollaig a bhí mé féin
I mBun Abhann Doinne is mé gan chéill
Ag iomáin ar an trá bháin
'Is mo chamán bán ins mo dhorn liom
Agus och och Éire 'lig is ó,
Éire lionn dubh (melancholy) agus ó,
'Sé mo chroí 'tá trom 's bronach.
Nach tuirseach mise anseo liom féin
Nach n-áirim guth coiligh lonndubh nó traon
Gealbhán, smaolach, naoscach féin
Is chan aithním féin an Domhnach
'Sé seo an choraíocht atá buan
Ar a' tsaol go gcuirfeadh sé cluain
Mheallfadh sé an chaora ón uan –
Agus mheall sé uaimse an óige
Dá mbeadh agam coite is rámh
D'iomairfinn liom ar dhroim a'tsnáimh
'S mé ag duil le Dia go sroichfinn slán
Is chan aithním féin an Domhnach
English Translation
I wish I were in Ardicoan
Near yon mountain far away.
I would seldom let the Sunday go
From the Cuckoo's glen across the bay.
It is many a Christmas Day I had
In Cushendun while still a lad;
Hurling on the White Shore Strand
With my good ash hurley in my hand.
And it's oh dear Ireland, you're my home!
Far from you I had to roam
And my heart is heavy and alone.
But my heart is weary all alone
And it sends a lonely cry
To the land that sings beyond my dreams
And the lonely Sundays pass me by.
But the grave is waiting for us all
The whole wide world must heed its call
It steals the mother from her brood
As it stole away my boyhood.
If I only had a boat and oar
I would row to Erin's shore
Trusting God to see me o'er
In time to die in Ireland.

Ard Uí Chuain / Sadhbh Ní Bhruinneallaigh (Live 2017)

Si j'étais à Ard Uí Chuain
Près de cette montagne lointaine
Je n'hésiterais pas à y aller
Dans la vallée des coucous un dimanche
J'ai passé tant de Noëls
A Cushendun, sans réfléchir
Jouant sur la plage blanche
Mon hurley en main
Oh, chère Irlande, mon foyer,
Loin de toi j'ai dû errer
Mon cœur est lourd et seul.
Mais mon cœur est las, tout seul
Et il lance un cri solitaire
Vers la terre qui chante au-delà de mes rêves
Et les dimanches solitaires me passent devant les yeux.
Mais la tombe nous attend tous
Le monde entier doit y répondre
Elle dérobe la mère à ses petits
Comme elle m'a volé mon enfance.
Si j'avais un bateau et des rames
J'irais ramer jusqu'aux côtes d'Irlande
Confiant en Dieu pour me guider
Pour mourir en Irlande.
Traduction anglaise
I wish I were in Ardicoan
Near yon mountain far away.
I would seldom let the Sunday go
From the Cuckoo's glen across the bay.
It is many a Christmas Day I had
In Cushendun while still a lad;
Hurling on the White Shore Strand
With my good ash hurley in my hand.
And it's oh dear Ireland, you're my home!
Far from you I had to roam
And my heart is heavy and alone.
But my heart is weary all alone
And it sends a lonely cry
To the land that sings beyond my dreams
And the lonely Sundays pass me by.
But the grave is waiting for us all
The whole wide world must heed its call
It steals the mother from her brood
As it stole away my boyhood.
If I only had a boat and oar
I would row to Erin's shore
Trusting God to see me o'er
In time to die in Ireland.