Toradh

Toradh

Fruit

(Drom Caor)

Ní fhaca ár bhformhór solas an lae.
An chuid againn a chonaic, ba ar éigean é.        
I bhfad na haimsire, dhein cré na cille dínn.
Tháinig éanlaith an aeir ag ceiliúradh,
Scaipeadar síolta orainn ina ndeora daite        
A dhein caorthainn gheala is crainn chuilinn,
Geataí cosanta timpeall ár gcillín.
Seasaid mar aingil choimhdeachta ar faire
Is i ndubhghlaise dhuilliúr fómhair ‘s geimhridh
Tugaid toradh ina lasracha caordhearga.
 
Chan fhaca a’ mhòr-chuid againn solas an là,
Agus an fheadhainn a chunnaic, b’ ann air èiginn.
Le ùine, rinneadh crè na cille dhinn.
Thàinig eòin nan speur a cheilearadh,
Is nan deòir dathte sgap iad sìl oirnn
A chaidh nan caorainn mhìn ’s nan cuilinn,
Nam balla-dìon mun cuairt oirnn sa chladh.
Tha iad nan ainglean ri caithris,
Agus am measg duilleach dorcha foghair is geamhraidh
Nochdaidh an dearcan a’ losgadh mar èibhlean.
 
Most of us never saw daylight.
Some more died shortly after birth.
As time passed, all turned to clay.
The birds of the air sang above us,
Scattered seeds on us, coloured tears,
That grew into rowan and holly trees,
Protective gates encircling our cillín.
They are guardian angels keeping vigil
And in dark foliage of autumn and winter
They give forth a blaze, red as embers.