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Doire na Sealg
Rachaidh mé síos go Doire na Sealg,
áit a mbeidh mo ghrá,
faoi chiamhair chraobh.

Beidh dearcáin faoi chos is caonach,
i lár na coille cumhra,
caora cuilinn, cnó agus úlla
go fairsing ann.
Biolar agus samhadh
i ngleann ceo.
Flúirse ina bhflúirse ann.
Fianna a ritheann i réimeanna is
Damh sa choill,
amuigh ar an cheo sa choill.
Buailfidh muid lenár dtaibhsí féin.

Luífidh muid faoin chrann caorthainn ann
ag éisteacht le monabhar an tsrutháin
is craobhmhúr agus craobhcheathanna
craobhchith tamall ón spéir.

Binn guth an smólaigh ar bharra craobh ann
binn guth na cuaiche
is an loin dhuibh.

Glaise ina ghlaise ann.
Duileabhar fúinn is luachra
go barra glún.

Éalóidh muid ón domhan seal.
Éalóidh muid uainn féin
i lár na coille cumhra,
caora cuilinn cnó agus úlla
go fairsing ann
biolar agus samhadh
i ngleann ceo.

Seinnfidh ceol do shúl im chroí, a stór
nuair a rachaidh muid síos go Doire na Sealg
le coimheascar lae.

Tá caonach faoi chos i nDoire na Sealg
mar a luíonn muid faoi chiamhar chraobh
i nDoire na Sealg, ba bhrídeach sí mé
is lean mé mo ghrá mar eilit sa cheo.
Dernashallog
I will go down to Dernashallog,
the wood of the hunting,
down to where my love will be
under the gloom of branches

There’ll be acorns underfoot and moss
in the middle of the fragrant wood
holly berries, nuts and apples
in plenty there
cress and sorrel
in the mist-glen
plentifulness there
and deers running in leaps
and a stag out in the wood mist
We’ll meet our own ghosts there

We’ll lie a while under the rowan tree
listening to the stream’s murmur
rain showers through the branches
awhile from the sky

The thrushes voice will be sweet there,
from the top of every branch
and sweet the cuckoo
sweet the blackbird

Greeness there beneath us,
leaves and rushes
up to our knees

We’ll escape from the world awhile
escape from ourselves
in the middle of the fragrant wood
holly berries, nuts and apples
in plenty there
cress and sorrel
in the mist-glen

The music of your eye
will play in my heart, love
when we go down to Dernashallog,
the wood of the hunting
at dusky eveningtide

There’s moss underfoot in Dernashallog
where we lie under the shade of branches,
in Dernashallog, I was a fairy bride
and I followed my love like a doe in the mist