Òran do dh’Iain Dòmhnallach
Mary Ann KennedyOriginal | English translation by watercolourmusic.co.uk |
ÒRAN DO DH’IAIN DÒMHNALLACH | LAMENT FOR JOHN MACDONALD |
Thàinig naigheachd don dùthaich Dh’ùraich mulad as ùr dhuinn, is bròn, Nach bu mhaireann am flùran A bha measail is cliùiteach na dhòigh; Leam is duilich ri innse Thu bhi d’ chàradh glè ìosal fon fhòd, Fad o d’ chairdean ’s o d’ dhìlsean, ’S fad on dachaidh ’s on tìr thug dhuit lòn. | That renewed sorrow and sadness for us, That the flower was no more That had been kindly and worthy in his manner; I am so sorry to have to report That you are buried deep in the ground, Far from your family and companions, And far from the land and home that fed you. |
Tha do phàrantan lèirte, ’S beag an t-ioghnadh an ceum a bhi mall, On is fìrinn an sgeula Gun do spìonadh a’ gheug às a bonn; Thàinig saighead bhon nàmhaid, Chuir a daithean gu làr thu ’s b’ e ’n call; ’S iomadh òganach sàr-mhaith Chaidh an lath ’ud gu bàs a’s an Fhraing. | Your parents are beside themselves, Little wonder their footfall is slow, Since there’s truth in the tale That the branch was plucked out by its root; An arrow from the enemy – Its point laid you low, and what a loss; Many’s the finest young man That went to his death that day in France. |
Tha do pheathraichean brònach, ’S tha do bhràithrean fo leòn ’s thu gan dìth, ’S tu gun dèanadh an comhnàdh, Bha thu tuigseach is eòlach ’s gach gnìomh; ’Nuair a ghlaoidhte thar chàich riut Air an raon latha bhlàir ann an strì, ’S tu gun seasadh an làrach Eadar sinne san nàmhaid gar dìon. | Your sisters are sorrowful, And your brothers sad in your absence, Yours was fine company for them, You were understanding and knowledgeable in every way; When they called you above others, On the battle-day field in the fight, You would stand your ground Between us and the enemy to defend us. |
Bu tu fhèin an duin’ uasal: B’ e sin teisteas an t-sluaigh ort gu lèir; Bha thu faic’leach a d’ ghluasad Agus measarra, stuama da-rèir; Bha thu smioral mar shaighdear Agus iriosal caoimhneil am beus; ’S mise dh’fhaodadh a ghràitinn, Gura fìrinn tha ’m dhàn, ’s nach e breug. | You were the noble man: That was what everyone said of you; You were nimble in movement, Modest and temperate to boot; You were hardy as a soldier Kindly and modest amongst attributes; I could well say That this is no lie, but the truth. |
’S iomadh cliù tha ri inns’ ort Nach bi mise cur sìos ann am dhàn; On a dh’fhalbh is nach till thu, Dh’fhàg thu chridheachan ìosal aig pàirt; Ach, cliù don Tì chaidh a cheusadh, ’S e choisinn dhuinne rèite le bhàs, Gun do shaor E dha fhèin thu Le chorp naomh thoirt mar èirig nad àit. | Great things could be told of you That I won’t recount in this song; Since you have left and will not return, You have left many downhearted; But, praise to the Lord who was crucified, He secured our redemption through his death, He freed you for his own sake And His holy body offered up in your stead. |
’S iomadh aon a tha duilich Bhon a chual iad mu bhuille do bhàis, ’S gun do chrìochnaich do thuras Nuair a thuit thu le tubaist sa bhlàr; Seo ’n cogadh thug cìs dhinn, Ged is fheudar bhi strìochdte nar càs; Tha ar beatha neo-chinnteach, Air a coimeas san fhìrinn ri sgàil. | So many are sorrowful Since they heard of your death-blow, And that your journey ended When you fell in battle; This is the war that cost us dearly, Though we must suffer in our cause; Our lives are uncertain, Compared in the truth but to a shadow. |