Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Mo ghile mear, artist - Mary Black. Album song Collected, in the genre Музыка мираDate of issue: 31.12.1991
Record label: 3ú
Song language: Irish
Mo ghile mear(original) |
| Curfa |
| 'Si mo laoch, mo Ghile Mear |
| 'Si mo Chaesar, Ghile Mear |
| Suan na sian nm bhfuaireas fiin |
| O chuaigh in gciin mo Ghile Mear |
| Bmmse buan ar buairt gach ls |
| Ag caoi go ctuaidh 's ag tuar na ndeor |
| Mar scaoileadh uaim an buachaill beo |
| 'S na rmomhtar tuairisc uaidh mo bhrsn |
| Nm lagnrann cuach go suairc ar nsin |
| Is nml guth gadhair i gcoillte cns |
| Na maidin shamhraidh i gcleanntaibh ceoi |
| O d’imigh uaim an buachaill beo |
| Marcach uasal uaibhreach sg |
| Gas gan gruaim is suairce sns |
| Glac is luaimneach luath i ngleo |
| Ag teascadh an tslua 's ag tuairgan tria |
| Seinntear stair ar chlairsigh cheoil |
| Is liontair tainte cart ar bord |
| Le hinntinn ard gan chaim gan cheo |
| Chun saol is slainte d’fhail don leon |
| Ghile mear 'sa seal faoi chumha |
| 'S Eire go liir faoi chlscaibh dubha |
| Suan na sian nm bhfuaireas fiin |
| O luaidh i gciin mo Ghile Mear |
| Seal da rabhas im’mhaighdean shiimh |
| 'S anois im' bhaintreach chaite thriith |
| Mo chiile ag treabhadh ne dtonn go trian |
| De bharr na gcnoc is in imigiin |
| English Translation (thanks to Marina Antolioni) |
| He is my hero, my dashing darling |
| He is my Caesar, dashing darling |
| I’ve had no rest from forebodings |
| Since he went far away my darling |
| Every day I am constantly sad |
| Weeping bitterly and shedding tears |
| Because our lively lad has left us |
| And no news from him is heard alas |
| The cuckoo sings not pleasantly at noon |
| And the sound of hounds is not heard in nut-filled woods |
| Nor summer morning in misty glen |
| Since he went away from me, my lively boy |
| Noble, proud young horseman |
| Warrior unsaddened, of most pleasant countenace |
| A swift-moving hand, quick in a fight |
| Slaying the enemy and smiting the strong |
| Let a strain be played on musical harps |
| And let many quarts be filled |
| With high spirit without fault or mist |
| For life and health to toast my lion |
| Dashing darling for a while under sorrow |
| And all Ireland under black cloaks |
| Rest or pleasure I did not get |
| Since he went far away my dashing darling |
| For a while I was a gentle maiden |
| And now a spent worn-out widow |
| My spouse ploughing the waves strongly |
| Over the hills and far away |
| (translation) |
| Curfa |
| She's my hero, my Quick Boy |
| She's my Caesar, Ghile Mear |
| Suan na sian nm bhfuaireas fiin |
| O my Gile Mear went away |
| Bmmse permanent on worry every ls |
| Crying bitterly and predicting tears |
| As I released the living boy |
| And don't tell me my report |
| Nm lagnrann cuckoo lavishly on nsin |
| Nml is the voice of a dog in cns woods |
| Summer mornings in misty cliffs |
| O the living boy has left me |
| Proud noble rider sg |
| Stem without gloom and tenderness etc |
| Take it early in a hurry |
| Truncating the crowd and predicting tria |
| History is played on musical harps |
| It is a tanned cart netting on board |
| With a high mind without chame without fog |
| For life and health for the lion |
| A quick whirlwind in mourning |
| All of Ireland is covered in black |
| Suan na sian nm bhfuaireas fiin |
| O mention in the song of my Ghile Mear |
| Look at the gentle maidens |
| And now I'm a worn-out widow of three |
| My wife plowing the waves to a third |
| Because of the hills and in imigiin |
| English Translation (thanks to Marina Antolioni) |
| He is my hero, my dashing darling |
| He is my Caesar, dashing darling |
| I’ve had no rest from forebodings |
| Since he went far away my darling |
| Every day I am constantly sad |
| Weeping bitterly and shedding tears |
| Because our lively lad has left us |
| And no news from him is heard alas |
| The cuckoo sings not pleasantly at noon |
| And the sound of hounds is not heard in nut-filled woods |
| Nor summer morning in misty glen |
| Since he went away from me, my lively boy |
| Noble, proud young horseman |
| Unsaddened warrior, of most pleasant countenace |
| A swift-moving hand, quick in a fight |
| Slaying the enemy and smiting the strong |
| Let a strain be played on musical harps |
| And let many quarts be filled |
| With high spirit without fault or mist |
| For life and health to toast my lion |
| Dashing darling for a while under sorrow |
| And all Ireland under black cloaks |
| Rest or pleasure I did not get |
| Since he went far away my dashing darling |
| For a while I was a gentle maiden |
| And now a spent worn-out widow |
| My spouse plowing the waves strongly |
| Over the hills and far away |