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[VI - XIV]

Gwyr a aeth ododin chwerthin ognaw.
chwerw en trin a llain en emdullyaw.
byrr vlyned en hed yd ynt endaw.
mab botgat gwnaeth gwynnyeith gwreith
e law.
ket elwynt e lanneu e benydyaw.
a hen a yeueing a hydyr a llaw.
dadyl diheu angheu y eu treidaw.Read more... )

Men went to Gododdin, laughter-inciting,
Bitter in battle, with blades set for war.
Brief the year they were at peace.
The son of Bodgad, by the deeds of his hand
did slaughter.
Though they went to churches to do penance,
The young, the old, the lowly, the strong,
True is the tale, death oer’took them.

Men went to Gododdin, with eager laughter,
Attacking in an army, cruel in battle,
They slew with swords without much sound
Rheithfyw, pillar of battle, took pleasure in giving.

Men went to Catraeth, swift was their host.
Fresh mead was their feast, their poison too.
Three hundred waging war, under command,
And after joy, there was silence.
Though they went to churches to do penance,
True is the tale, death oer’took them.

Men went to Catraeth, mead-nourished,
Sturdy and strong, it would be wrong should I not praise them.
Amid blood-red blades in dark-blue sockets,
The war-hounds fought fiercely, tight formation.
Of the war-band of Brennych, I would have thought it a burden,
to leave any in the shape of a man alive.
A friend I have lost; faithful I was.
Swift in the struggle, it grieves me to leave him.
The brave one desired no father-in-law’s dowry,
The son of Cian from Maen Gwyngwn.Read more... )
bardachd: (Default)
Ind ráith i comair in dairfedo,
ba Bruidgi, ba Cathail,
ba hÁedo, ba hAilello,
ba Conaing, ba Cuilíni,
ocus ba Máele Dúin.
Ind ráith d’éis cach ríg ar úair,
ocus int slúaig foait i n-úir.

The fort over against the oakwood,
It was Bruidge’s, it was Cathal’s,
It was Áed’s, it was Ailill’s,
It was Conaing’s, it was Cuilíne’s
and it was Máel Dúin’s.
The fort remains after each king in turn,
and the hosts sleep in the ground.
bardachd: (Default)
A Bé find, in rega lim
I tír n-ingnad hi fil rind?
Is barr sobairche folt and;
Is dath snechtai corp co ind.

Is and nád bí muí ná taí;
Gela dét and; dubai braí;
Is lí súla lín ar slúa;
Is dath sion and cech grúad.

Is corcur maige cach muin;
Is lí súla ugae luin;
Cid caín déicsiu Maige Fáil,
Annam íar ngnáis Maige máir.

Cid mesc lib coirm Inse Fáil,
Is mescu coirm Tíre Máir;
Amra tíre tír as-biur;
Ní tét oac and ré siun.

Srotha téithmilsi tar tír,
Rogu de mid ocus fín,
Doíni delgnaidi cen on,
Combart cen peccad, cen chol.

Ad-chiam cách for cach leth,
Ocus níconn-acci nech:
Teimil imorbais Ádaim
Dodon-aircheil ar áraim.

Read more... )
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Is aicher in gaeth in-nocht,
fo-fúasna fairrge findfholt,
ní águr réimm mora mind
dond laechraid lainn o Lothlind.

The wind is bitter this night:
It tosses the white hair of the sea;
I do not fear the wild warriors
From Lothlinn, who course on a quiet sea.
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You that are jealous and have a wife
go face the rain like other men.
If you want a hope of peace
question not your woman's moods.

She's woman born, and must so stay
whatever pain she has of it.
She is the servingmaid of love
and not herself responsible.

Don't trust the sight of your own eyes.
Half of what you know, know not.
Take proven news to be a lie.
Don't believe your own ears.

Suffer agitation calmly.
Bother with nothing under the sun.
The wisest thing to be
is a witless harmless fool.

Eat your meat and sleep your fill,
don't let her see your wretched pain,
cross the mire in a single leap,
nor care a straw for your woman's moods.

You that are jealous and cannot help but love her
don't care a straw for that empty woman's moods.
If you can't manage that, for honour's sake
outclimb all idiots to the peak of madness.
bardachd: (Default)
Ind ráith i comair in dairfedo,
ba Bruidgi, ba Cathail,
ba hÁedo, ba hAilello,
ba Conaing, ba Cuilíni,
ocus ba Máele Dúin.
Ind ráith d’éis cach ríg ar úair,
ocus int slúaig foait i n-úir.
Read more... )
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I walk through the churchyard
I walk through the churchyard
To lay this body down;
I know moon-rise, I know star-rise;
I walk in the moonlight, I walk in the starlight;
I'll lie in the grave and stretch out my arms,
I'll go to judgement in the evening of the day,
And my soul and thy soul shall meet that day,
When I lay this body down.
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Darkness has come upon me, painting, black, palpable; wipe it out, Dawn, like a debt.
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As we come marching, marching in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing: "Bread and roses! Bread and roses!"
As we come marching, marching, we battle too for men,
For they are women's children, and we mother them again.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses!
As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient cry for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for -- but we fight for roses, too!
As we come marching, marching, we bring the greater days.
The rising of the women means the rising of the race.
No more the drudge and idler -- ten that toil where one reposes,
But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses! Bread and roses!


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