Moch 's a' Mhaduinn Diciadain
| Le Alasdair Mac Iain Bhain. (Song and translation from Story and Song of Loch Ness-side by Alexander Macdonald, 1914). |
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| Moch 's a' mhaduinn Diciadain, Fhuair mi litir gun sgriobhadh, 'S lèugh mi 'n naigheachd nach iaruinn Thighinn mo dhàil gus an liathainn - Mu Mhac-Phàdruig 'tha m' iarguinn, 'Na laighe 'n dràsd' ann am fiabhrus, - A' chraobh fo bhlàth 's i gun chrionadh; Ach ma 's àill leat a Chriosd' e Cum an àird i 's an fhionan an còir dhi. Cum an àird, etc. |
Early on Wednesday morning, I received a letter, without having written, And I read the news which I would not wish To come to me until I turned grey - About Mac Phadruig is my concern, Who is just now lying in a fever, - The tree in bloom and not withered; But if it is your wish, O Christ, Keep it tall in the vineyard, where it should be, Keep it tall, etc. |
| 'S ged a tha i na laighe, Na leig crionadh dhi fhathasd; Thig is rèitich an rathad, Is fuasgail cuibhraichean ceangail; Glac a' chùis na do lamhan, Is tog an àird i gu aighear is sòlas. Is tog an, etc. |
And though it is fallen, Do not allow it yet to decay; Come and prepare the way, And untie the bonds that are binding; Take the matter in your hands, And raise it high to gladness and contentment, And raise, etc. |
| Mo sgèul cràiteach ri fhulang Fhad 's tha d' dhòrainn a' fuireach, Am bun do lòch-lèin a' tuineadh; Thug e dhinn ar craobh-mhullaich, Dh' fhàg sinn ar crionaich gun duilleach, Mar luing air chuan 's i gun chumbaist, Gun stiùir, gun chrann, no gun urrad na seòil oirr'. Gun stiùir, gun, etc. |
My news is painful to bear As long as so much of your torment remains, Fixed at the base of your spleen; It removed from us our tallest tree, It left us* as brushwood without leaves, Like a ship at sea without a compass, Without rudder, or mast or as much as a sail, Without rudder, etc. * "Reading 'nar?". |
| Dh' fhàg thu sinne 'n ar n' èiginn, 'An eilean mara ga 'r lèir-sgrios. Gun fhios cia 'n rathad a theid sinn, 'S an tonn le onfhais ag èirigh; Mar dh' iath na neòil air na spèuran, Gun rèult 's an adhar is lèir dhuinn, Gun stiùir gun philot 'ni fèum dhuinn, 'S chaidh 'n Cuataran grèine dhe 'sheòl oirnn. 'S chaidh 'n, etc. |
You left us in distress, In a sea island being completely destroyed, Not knowing which way to go, And the waves with fury rising; As the clouds encompassed the skies, With no star visible in the heavens; Without rudder or pilot to aid us, And our fix of the sun has been faulty, It has been, etc. |
| Na 'm b' fhear le naimhdeas no diùmbadh A thigeadh ort air do chùl-thaobh, Gu do lot le droch dhùrachd Cha bhiodh an tuaircneadh gun diùladh; 'S iomadh bratach a ruisgteadh, Ann an Alba mu d' chùise - Sgèul 'tha dearbhte gun dùisgeadh iad còmhla. Sgeul tha, etc. |
Were it one, with enmity and displeasure, Who would hit you from behind, To wound you with evil intent The assault would not go unavenged; Many banners would be unfurled, In Scotland, on your behalf - It is certain that they would rise up together. It is certain, etc. |
| Dh' èireadh garg's a' choimh-shreip leat Mac Dhòmhnuill nan Eilean, Le laimh dhearg 's le lann shoillear - Suinn nam fearra-bhuillean troma, Bu neo leanabaidh 's a' choinneamh; A sgaoil 's an Eipheid o Cholla, 'S a ghabh seilbheachd air feadh na Roinn-Eorpa. 'S a ghabh, etc. |
Fierce in the conflict would rise with you MacDonald of the Isles, With red hand and bright sword - Warriors of the heavy manly blows, Not childish in the onslaught; Who spread from Egypt, descendants of Coll, And took possession throughout Europe. And took, etc. |
| 'S thig o Lòchaidh nan geala-bhreac - 'S b' fhiach a' chòir ud a dearbhadh - A thaobh càirdeas do sheanna-mhath'ir, Mac Dhòmhnuill Duibh 's Cloinne Chamshroin, 'N caithream catha 's neo leanabaidh, 'N uair a dh' èireadh an fhearg air an t-seòrsa. 'N uair a, etc. |
They will come from Lochy-side of the sea-trout - And their claim is worth proving - Because of the connections of your grandmother - Lochiel and Clan Cameron, In battle frenzy not childlike, When anger is aroused in that clan. When, etc. |
| 'S thig o Lòchaidh a rithist - Bho thùr Chreagain-an-Fhithich - Fir shunntach 'shiùbhladh an t-slighe, Le mèud an rùin duit o 'n cridhe, 'S e dh' fhàgas ciùrrt' iad fo lighich, Mar a faic iad thu t' uidheam ri 'm beò-shlàint'. Mar a faic, etc. |
And there will come from Lochy-side too - From the tower of Creagan-an-Fhithich - Lively men who would make the journey, On account of their regard for you in their hearts, They will be pained and overwhelmed, If they do not see you again at your work in their lifetime. If they do not, etc. |
| Dh' èireadh Guinnich am feachd leat, 'S thigeadh Grèumaich fo d' bhrataich, Griogair Ruadh-Shruth 's Cloinn Ailpein, 'S Iarla Shìphort 's a ghaisgich - 'S a sheasadh dìlis am nach mar bu chòir dhoibh. 'S a sheasadh dilis, etc. |
The Gunns would rise with you in a host, Grahams would come under your banner, MacGregors of Roro and Clan Alpin, And the Earl of Seaforth and his warriors - Who would stand forth faithfully as they should. Who would stand, etc. |
| Bi'dh mi 'guidh' air mo Shlànfhear 'Thighinn le spionnadh 's le tàbhachd 'Thoirt duit cuibhrinn de 'n t-slàinte; Greas dean ungadh le d' ghràsan, 'S glan le hissop a chràdh-lot, 'S bean le d' mheòir ris an àite 'S am beil a thrioblaid, 's an slànuich thu 'dhòruinn. 'S am beil, etc. |
I shall be entreating my Saviour To come with strength and firmness To give you a measure of health; Hasten and anoint with your grace, And cleanse with hyssop his painful wound. And touch with your finger the place Where his trouble is, and where you may relieve his suffering. Where, etc. |
| Ach mas a bàs dhuit gun liathadh, 'S gu'n tig do Shlànfhear ga t' iarraidh, Tha mo dhùil anns an Trianaid, An Triùir is àirde tha 'riaghladh, Gu 'm bi thu 'm Pàrras an siochaidh - A' chraobh fo bhlàth 's i gun chrionadh; 'S mar a caomhainn thu 'Chriosd' e Gur i 'n litir gun sgriobhadh a leòn mi. Gur i 'n, etc. |
But if it is death for you without grey hairs, And that your Saviour shall come for you, My hope is in the Trinity, The three who rule most high, May you be in peace in Paradise - The tree in bloom without fading; And if you do not spare him, O Christ, It is the letter without having written* that has pained me. It is, etc. * i.e. in reply |