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IONNLAIDH mi m’ aodann
’S na naoi gatha greine,
Mar a dh’ ionnlaid Moir a Mac,
Am bainne bragh na breine.
Mil a bhi ’na m’ bheul,
Seirc a bhi ’na m’ aodann;
An gaol thug Moire dha Mac
Bhi an cridhe gach cairc domhsa.
Gum bu suileach, cluasach, briathrach Dia,
Da m’ riarachadh, is da m’ neartachadh;
Gum bu dall, bodhar, balbh, sion sior,
Mo luchd tair is mo luchd taimhlis.
Teanga Chalum-chille ’na mo cheann,
Agall Chalum-chille ’na mo chainn;
Foisneachd Mhic bhuadhaich nan gras
Dhol thugam-sa an lathair sluaigh. |
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I BATHE my face
In the nine rays of the sun,
As Mary bathed her Son
In the rich fermented milk.
Honey be in my mouth,
Affection be in my face;
The love that Mary gave her Son
Be in the heart of all flesh for me.
All-seeing, all-hearing, all-inspiring may God be,
To satisfy and to strengthen me;
Blind, deaf, and dumb, ever, ever be
My contemners and my mockers,
The tongue of Columba in my head,
The eloquence of Columba in my speech;
The composure of the Victorious Son of grace
Be mine in presence of the multitude. |
