Buile Shuibhne
Thriall siad mo thárrachtain
Ag teacht ina rith teann
Gur teitheas-sa rompusan
I mullaí beann
They have tried to reach me
Coming in their swift run,
That I fled before them
Into the mountain tops
My transgressions came with me
Whatever path I go
It is clear from the compassion shown me
I am a sheep without a shelter
Tháinig liom mo thairmtheachta
Cibé conair a théim
Is léir dhom ar m’oirchiseacht
I mo chaora gan lias
Tiocfaidh an reo réaltánach
I bhfearas ar gach linn
Is mé suarach, seachránach
Mise faoi ar an mbeann
The starry frost will come
Settling on every pool
I am wretched, deranged
An me under it on the mountain-peak
Ní charaim an stocaireacht
A chluinim go moch
Binne liom crocaireacht
Broic i mBeanna Broc
I do not love the trumpeting
That I hear early
Sweeter to me the croaking
Of badgers in Beanna Broc
Ní charaim an chornaireacht
A chluinim go teann
Binne liom ag damhaíreacht
Damh daichead beann
I do not love the horn-blowing
That I hear so boldly
Sweeter to me the deer-bellowing
Stag of forty points
Tá ábhar seisrí
As gach gleann i ngleann
Gach damh ina fhreasluí
I mullach na mbeann
The materials of the ploughman are
From each glen to glen
Each stag recumbent
At the top of the peaks
Cé iomaí dom dhamra-sa
As gach gleann i ngleann
Ní minic lámh airimh
Ag dúnadh a mbeann
Though many are the deer herds for me
From each glen to glen
It is not often the grip of the ploughman
Closes on their antlers
Damh Sléibhe ard Eibhlinne
Damh Sléibhe Fuaid féigh
Damh Ealla, damh Orbhraí
Damh lonn Locha Léin
The stag of high Mount Felim
The stag of sharp Mount Fuad
The stag of Allow, the stag of Orrerry
The fierce stag of Lough Leane
Damh Seimhne, damh Latharne,
Damh Line na leann
Damh Cuaille, damh Conachla
Damh Boidhre dhá bheann
The stag of Sheean, the stag of Larne
The stag of Linny of the Cloaks
The stag of Cooley, the stag of Connahill
The stag of two-peaked Boira
A máthair na ngraí-se
Liathadh do leann
Níl damh i do dheasca-sa
Gan daichead beann
Oh mother of these deer
Your cloak has greyed
There is no stag in your company
Without forty points
A dhaimh a rinne an fogharán
Chugam thar an ngleann
Maith an t-ionadh fargán
I mullach do bheann
Oh stag that made the noise
Towards me across the glen
Good are the wonderful slopes
In the top of your peaks
Is mé Suibhne sirtheachán
Luath a rithim thar gleann
Ní hé m’ainm dleathachán
Mó is ainm dom Fear Beann.
I am Suibhne, a poor begger,
Swiftly do I race across the glen
That is not my lawful name,
Rather my name is Man of the Peaks.
Cé gur iomaí m’imirce
M’éadach inniu is gearr
Mé féin a rinne m’fhoraire
I mullach na mbeann
Though many were my wanderings
My raiment today is scanty
I kept watch for myself
On the top of the mountains.
Beidh ann mhias mo bhith-luí
Theas ag Tuíann teann
Ag Tigh Moling bith-ainglí
Titfidh mé de bheann
There will be the place of my eternal rest
In the south at strong Tuíann
At the ever-angelic house of Molaing
I shall fall by a spearpoint
Chuir mise i do chumannsa
Mallacht Rónáin Finn
A bheannáin, a bhúireáin,
A bhéiceadáin binn, a bheannáin.
It put me into your company
The curse of Ronan Finn
Oh little antlered one, little bleating one,
Oh melodious little brayer, oh little antlered one.
