Language   

Hallaig

Somhairle MacGill-Eain [Sorley MacLean]
Back to the song page with all the versions


OriginalEnglish version / Versione inglese / Version anglaise / Englanninkielinen...
HALLAIGHALLAIG
  
‘Tha tìm, am fiadh, an coille Hallaig’'Time, the deer, is in Hallaig Wood'
  
Tha bùird is tàirnean air an uinneigThere's a board nailed across the window
trom faca mi an Àird IarI looked through to see the west
’s tha mo ghaol aig Allt HallaigAnd my love is a birch forever
’na craoibh bheithe, ’s bha i riamhBy Hallaig Stream, at her tryst
  
eadar an t-Inbhir ’s Poll a’ Bhainne,Between Inver and Milk Hollow,
thall ’s a-bhos mu Bhaile Chùirn:somewhere around Baile-chuirn,
tha i ’na beithe, ’na calltainn,A flickering birch, a hazel,
’na caorann dhìrich sheang ùir.A trim, straight sapling rowan.
  
Ann an Sgreapadal mo chinnidh,In Screapadal, where my people
far robh Tarmad ’s Eachann Mòr,Hail from, the seed and breed
tha ’n nigheanan ’s am mic ’nan coilleOf Hector Mor and Norman
a’ gabhail suas ri taobh an lòin.By the banks of the stream are a wood.
  
Uaibreach a-nochd na coilich ghiuthaisTo-night the pine-cocks crowing
a’ gairm air mullach Cnoc an Rà,On Cnoc an Ra, there above,
dìreach an druim ris a’ ghealaich –And the trees standing tall in moonlight -
chan iadsan coille mo ghràidh.They are not the wood I love.
  
Fuirichidh mi ris a’ bheitheI will wait for the birches to move,
gus an tig i mach an Càrn,The wood to come up past the cairn
gus am bi am bearradh uileUntil it has veiled the mountain
o Bheinn na Lice fa sgàil.Down from Beinn na Lice in shade.
  
Mura tig ’s ann theàrnas mi a HallaigIf it doesn't, I'll go to Hallaig,
a dh’ionnsaigh Sàbaid nam marbh,To the sabbath of the dead,
far a bheil an sluagh a’ tathaich,Down to where each departed
gach aon ghinealach a dh’fhalbh.Generation has gathered.
  
Tha iad fhathast ann a Hallaig,Hallaig is where they survive,
Clann Ghill-Eain’s Clann MhicLeòid,All the MacLeans and MacLeads
na bh’ ann ri linn Mhic Ghille Chaluim:Who were there in the time of Mac Gille Chaluim:
chunnacas na mairbh beò.The dead have been seen alive,
  
Na fir ’nan laighe air an lèanaigThe men at their length on the grass
aig ceann gach taighe a bh’ ann,At the gable of every house,
na h-igheanan ’nan coille bheithe,The girls a wood of birch trees
dìreach an druim, crom an ceann.Standing tall, with their heads bowed.
  
Eadar an Leac is na FeàrnaibhBetween The Leac and Fearns
tha ’n rathad mòr fo chòinnich chiùin,The road is plush with moss
’s na h-igheanan ’nam badan sàmhachAnd the girls in a noiseless procession
a’ dol a Clachan mar o thus.Going to Clachan as always
  
Agus a’ tilleadh às a’ Chlachan,And coming back from Clachan
à Suidhisnis ’s à tir nam beò;And Suisnish, their land of the living,
a chuile tè òg uallachStill lightsome and unheartbroken,
gun bhristeadh cridhe an sgeòil.Their stories only beginning.
  
O Allt na Feàrnaibh gus an fhaoilinnFrom Fearns Burn to the raised beach
tha soilleir an dìomhaireachd nam beannShowing clear in the shrouded hills
chan eil ach coitheanal nan nigheanThere are only girls congregating,
a’ cumail na coiseachd gun cheann.Endlessly walking along
  
A’ tilleadh a Hallaig anns an fheasgar,Back through the gloaming to Hallaig
anns a’ chamhanaich bhalbh bheò,Through the vivid speechless air,
a’ lìonadh nan leathadan casa,Pouring down the steep slopes,
an gàireachdaich ‘nam chluais ’na ceò,Their laughter misting my ear
  
’s am bòidhche ’na sgleò air mo chridheAnd their beauty a glaze on my heart.
mun tig an ciaradh air caoil,Then as the kyles go dim
’s nuair theàrnas grian air cùl Dhùn CanaAnd the sun sets behind Dun Cana
thig peilear dian à gunna Ghaoil;Love's loaded gun will take aim.
  
’s buailear am fiadh a tha ’na thuainealIt will bring down the lightheaded deer
a’ snòtach nan làraichean feòir;As he sniffs the grass round the wallsteads
thig reothadh air a shùil sa choille:And his eye will freeze: while I live,
chan fhaighear lorg air fhuil rim bheò.His blood won't be traced in the woods.


Back to the song page with all the versions

Main Page

Note for non-Italian users: Sorry, though the interface of this website is translated into English, most commentaries and biographies are in Italian and/or in other languages like French, German, Spanish, Russian etc.




hosted by inventati.org