Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Coinleach Glas An Fhómhair, artist - Clannad.
Date of issue: 19.08.2003
Song language: Irish
Coinleach Glas An Fhómhair(original) |
Ar chonnlaigh ghlais an Fhoghmhair |
A stóirín gur dhearc mé uaim |
Ba deas do chos I mbróig |
'Sba ró-dheas do leagan siubhail |
Do ghruaidh ar dhath na rósaí |
'Sdo chúirníní bhí fighte dlúith |
Monuar gan sinn 'ár bpósadh |
Nó'r bórd luinge 'triall 'un siubhail |
II |
Tá buachaillí na h-áite seo |
A' gartha 'gus ag éirghe teann |
Is lucht na gcochán árd |
A' deánamh fáruis do mo chailín donn |
Dá ngluaiseadh Rí na Spáinne |
Thar sáile 's a shlóighte cruinn |
Bhrúighfinn féar is fásach |
'S bhéinn ar láimh le mo chailín donn |
III |
Ceannacht buaibh ar aontaigh' |
Dá mbínn agus mo chailín donn |
Gluais is tar a chéad-searc |
Nó go dtéidh muid thar Ghaoth-Bearra 'nonn |
Go sgartar ó n-a chéile |
Bárr na gcraobh 's an eala ón tuinn |
Ní sgarfar sin ó chéile |
'S níl ach baois díbh á chur 'n mur gcionn |
IV |
Chuir mé leitir scríobhtha |
Annsoir mo sweetheart agus casaoid ghéar |
Chuir sí chugam arís í |
Go rabh a croidhe istuigh I lár mo chléibh |
Cum na h-eala is míne |
Ná'n síoda 's ná cluimh na n-éan |
Nach trom an osna ghním-se |
Nuair a smaoitighim ar a bheith 'sgaradh léi |
'Sé chuala m/e Dé Domhnaigh |
Mar chómhrádh 'gabháil eadar mhnáibh |
Go rabh sí 'gabháil 'a pósadh |
Ar óigfhear dá bhfuil san áit |
A stóirín glac mo chomhairle |
'S a' foghmhar seo fan mar tá |
'S cha leigim le 'bhfuil beo thú |
A stór nó 's tú mo ghrádh |
Translation |
(From Larry Keith Ogle) |
On the green stubble-fields of Autumn |
I saw you, my sweetheart |
Nice were your feet in shoes |
And wonderful your nimble gait |
Your hair the color of roses |
And your ringlets tightly plaited |
Alas that we’re not married |
Or on board ship sailing away |
The boys around here are |
Laughing and getting bold |
And the people of the high straw? |
Are making? |
of my brown girl |
If the King of Spain would |
Go abroad with his assembled men |
I would flatten grass and rank grass |
And I would be with my brown girl |
Buying cows at the fair |
If I were? |
and my brown girl |
Go and come first love |
Until we go over to Gaoth-Bearra |
Until we separate from each other |
The tops of the branches and the swan |
From the waves? |
That won’t separate us |
And it’s only folly for you to put it? |
I wrote a letter |
To my sweetheart and a sharp complaint |
She sent it back to me |
That her heart was inside me |
Compose the artsswannoble person? |
Finer than silk or bird feathers |
Heavy is my sigh |
When I think of being apart from her |
What I heard on Sunday |
As conversation among the women |
That she was going to be married |
To a young man from the place |
Sweetheart take my advice |
And this Autumn stay as you are |
And don’t tell anyone, my love |
That you are my love |
(translation) |
On the green stubbles of Autumn |
Sweetheart, I looked at you |
Your foot was nice In shoes |
Your travel version is too nice |
Your cheeks are the color of roses |
'Sdo beads were woven tightly |
Monuar without us' our marriage |
Or the board of a 'trial' ship to travel |
II |
There are boys of this place |
Screaming and getting tight |
The hawkers are high |
Making fun of my brown haired girl |
If the King of Spain had moved |
Overseas and its hordes round |
I would push grass and desert |
And I was on hand with my brown girl |
III |
Agreed bovine purchase ' |
If I and my girlfriend are brown |
Glossary and after his first love |
Or we'll go over Gaoth-Bearra 'nonn |
That they are separated from each other |
The tops of the trees and the swan from the wave |
That will not be separated |
And you're only fooling around |
IV |
I sent a written letter |
East my sweetheart and sharp grievance |
She sent it to me again |
That her heart was in the center of my chest |
Compose the finest swan |
Neither silk nor the feathers of birds |
The sigh I made is not heavy |
When I think of being separated from her |
He heard me on Sunday |
As a 'conversation between women |
That she was 'engaged' in her marriage |
To a young man of the place |
Sweetheart take my advice |
And this autumn stay as it is |
And I don't let you live |
Dear or you are my love |
Translation |
(From Larry Keith Ogle) |
On the green stubble-fields of Autumn |
I saw you, my sweetheart |
Nice were your feet in shoes |
And wonderful your nimble gait |
Your hair the color of roses |
And your ringlets tightly plaited |
Alas that we’re not married |
Or on board ship sailing away |
The boys around here are |
Laughing and getting bold |
And the people of the high straw? |
Are making? |
of my brown girl |
If the King of Spain would |
Go abroad with his assembled men |
I would flatten grass and rank grass |
And I would be with my brown girl |
Buying cows at the fair |
If I were? |
and my brown girl |
Go and come first love |
Until we go over to Gaoth-Bearra |
Until we separate from each other |
The tops of the branches and the swan |
From the waves? |
That won’t separate us |
And it’s only folly for you to put it? |
I wrote a letter |
To my sweetheart and a sharp complaint |
She sent it back to me |
That her heart was inside me |
Compose the artsswannoble person? |
Finer than silk or bird feathers |
Heavy is my sigh |
When I think of being apart from her |
What I heard on Sunday |
As conversation among the women |
That she was going to be married |
To a young man from the place |
Sweetheart take my advice |
And this Autumn stay as you are |
And don’t tell anyone, my love |
That you are my love |