Tá sé ina shamhradh!

Nó beidh amárach. Ó tharla go mbeidh mé ag fágáil an gharraí go luath ar maidin leis an mbóthar a bhualadh go Baile Átha Cliath, tá mé ag imeacht beagán chun cinn orm féin anseo. Is é an chéad lá de Bhealtaine céad lá an tSamhraidh anseo in Éirinn, agus le theacht an tsamhraidh bhuí a cheiliúradh, seo dán leis an bhfile ó Indreabhán, Seosamh Ó Donnchadha, nó Joe Shéamais Sheáin mar ab fhearr aithne air - Filidh Bhaile na mBroghach.

Foilsíodh an dán seo sa leabhar Aniar, chomh maith leis an aistriúchán véarsaíochta Béarla uaim féin - an chéad uair, go bhfios dom, gur foilsíodh leagan Béarla de cheann ar bith de dhánta an Fhilidh.

Foilsíodh an bundán den chéad uair sa leabhar a chuir Peadar Mac an Iomaire i dtoll a chéile i dtús na n-ochtóidí.
Ar dhluthdhiosca Aniar, tá na haisteoirí Peadar Ó Treasaigh, (mac deirféara le Johnny Mhorgan an gharraí seo) agus Áine Ní Dhroighneáin le cloisteáil ag aithris an dáin.

Maidin Bhealtaine – Joe Shéamais Sheáin Ó Donnchadha (1908 – 1982)

Nach aoibhinn liom ceiliúr na n-éan ar an gcrann
An mhaidin chiúin álainn is mé ag fáinneáil sa drúcht,
Bíogann mo chroí ‘gus m’intinn le áthas
Tráth a dhearcaim an tráth sin ar na gleannta amach romham.

Gach pabhsae ag goineadh is ag borradh go breá,
Grian gheal na Bealtaine ag ardú aníos,
Gan scamall gan smúit ar an spéir in aon áit –
Ó, céad míle fáilte roimh áilleacht an tsaoil.

An bheach is an chuileog ina luí ar an mbláth;
Is an sionnach go sásta ar an leac ina shuí,
Feiceann sé chuige an lacha is a hál
Atá ag teacht ins an snámh san loch atá faoi.

An t-uan, is an searrach ag diúl ar a mháthair,
‘S an smólach go hard ag caitheamh nótaí ón gcraobh,
An broc ar a bhealach fán gcarraig sin thall
Le codladh go sámh ann go titim na hoích’.

Feicim amach uaim na púicíní báite,
Ag teacht chugam ón láib, ag oscailt a gcroí,
Is an giorria ag treabhadh thrí na ceannabháin bhána –
Pé ar bith cén áit a chuirfidh sé faoi.

Rachaidh mé suas ar an strapa mór ard sin
Nó go bhfeice mé áilleacht na ngleannta fúm síos.
Tá sméara is sú salúin is fraochóga ag fás ann,
Ach níl siad an t-am seo sách aibí le n-ith’.

Rachaidh mé abhaile ar lomchosa in airde –
Ní fhéadfaidh mé an lá breá a chur tharam fá dhraíocht –
Ach rachaidh mé an bealach, le cúnamh Dé, amárach
Nó go mbaine mé sásamh as fíoráilleacht an tsaoil.


May Morning

This crystal-clean morning, I roam through the dewdrops
I love how the birds celebrate in the trees
My heart and my head are pulsating with joy
As I look on the valleys that stretch to the sea.

The flowers at their sprouting and blooming all round me
The bright sun of Maytime is climbing the sky
Not a cloud or a stain in all of the heavens
As I welcome the beauty assailing my eye.

The bee and the fly whiz and hover all over
A fox licks his paws as he lies on a flag
He watches a duck and her clutch in the water
Bobbing and paddling across to the bank.

The lamb and the foal drink the milk of their mother
The thrush up on high throws his tune to the wind
The badger goes homeward by rocks through the heather
To sleep til the moon lights the sky once again.

I see out before me the bright water lilies,
Rise from the mud towards the bright sun above,
The hare ploughs his way through a cloud of bog cotton,
He heads for the hills and the hollows he loves.

I’ll walk up myself through that path to the hillside
And look down again at the valleys all round
The strawberries, bilberries growing all over
Soon they’ll be ready to pick from the ground.

I’ll head on for home then, my bare feet beneath me
But I’ll treasure this magic for many a day
And maybe tomorrow I’ll walk here to savour
Once more all this beauty I see on my way.