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PostPosted: Tue 27 Nov 2012 8:09 pm 
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Here are some Gaelic Christmas Carols, not just traditional English ones which have been translated, but some more traditional Scottish ones as well. Many are from Fiona Mackenzie's CD Duan Nollaig, which has some really pretty ones on it, both religious and those of the "Frosty the Snowman" type (including one to the tune of "She'll be Coming Round the Mountain").

Note to those who are new to the forum: These items are in Scottish Gaelic (Gàidhlig), and not Irish (Gaeilge), except as otherwise noted. For holiday greetings, expressions, and songs in Irish, see the Irish section of the forum.

O Thigibh, A Chaomh-Shluagh
(O, Come, All Ye Faithful)

O thigibh, a chaomh-shluagh,
Togarrach is aoibhneach,
O thigibh, O thigibh gu Bethlehem.
Thigibh is chì sibh
An naoidhean, Rìgh nan ainglean;

Sèisd (chorus):
O thugamaid dhà adhradh,
O thugamaid dhà adhradh,
O thugamaid dhà adhradh,
Rìgh na Glòir.

Fìor Dhia, O fhìor Dhia,
Soills’ on t-Soillse shìorraidh;
Cha bu ni ro shuarach leis a bhreith le Oigh:
Mac an Athar shìorraidh
Ginte, chan ann dèante;

O ainglean na glòrach,
Seinnibh caithream-buaidh dhà,
A’ lionadh nan Nèamh le fuaim ur cruitean oir.
Glòir agus moladh
Biodh do Dhia sna h-àrdaibh;

O fàilte do’n Tighearna
Rugadh gus ar saoradh;
Dhad Ainm-sa ro uasal gu robh cliù gu bràth.
Facal an Athar
Nis air teachd ‘san daonndachd

Èisd ‘San Iarmailt Oran Binn
(Hark, the Herald Angels Sing))

Èisd san iarmailt òran binn,
glòir gun chrìch do Rìgh nan Rìgh.
Sìth air thalamh ‘s tròcair shèimh,
Dia is daoine rèidh ri chèil’.
Duisgibh suas, a shluaigh, gu lèir,
‘s freagraibh caithream buaidh nan speur.
Togadh talamh ‘s Nèamh an guth,
rugadh Iosa Criosd an diugh.

Sèisd:
Èisd san iarmailt iòan binn,
glòir gun chrìch do Rìgh nan Rìgh.

Crìosd, dhan toir na Nèamhan cliù,
Crìosda, Tighearna mór nan Dùl.
Seall e tighinn aig crìoch nan linn,
Mac na h-òigh ‘s e bàidheil rinn.
Seall an diadhachd anns an fheòil,
sgàil na daonnachd air a ghlòir.
Ghabh e tlachd an comann dhaoin’,
Iosa, ar Imanuel caomh.

Fàilt’ do Phrìonns’ na sìth on àird!
Failt’ do sholas Grian an àigh!
Bheir e beatha do gach aon,
slàint’ fo sgèith do chlann nan daoin’.
Chuir e uaith’ a ghlòir le gràdh,
gus ar dìon bho chumhachd bàis.
Togar leis-san daoine suas,
‘s nì e iad nan gineal nuadh.

Sàmhach an Oidhch’
(Silent Night)

Sàmhach an oidhch’, naomha an oidhch’,
saoghal ‘na chadal; ‘s a-mach bho ar soills’,
Moire is Iòseph an stàball fàs,
faire os cionn an Leinibh le gradh,
cadal gu nèamhaidh sèimh,
cadal gu nèamhaidh sèimh.

Sàmhach an oidhch’, naomha an oidhch’,
buachaillean chunnaic an solas le boillsg’,
chual’ iad an t-òran bho ainglean na glòir,
fada is farsaing an naidheachd ro-mhór,
Crìosd am fear-saoraidh tha dlùth,
Crìosd am fear-saoraidh tha dlùth,

Sàmhach an oidhch’, naomha an oidhch’,
Aon Mhac Dhé, saor bho fhoill,
failte a’ ghràidh anns an aghaidh cho caoin,
latha nan gràs nis air tighinn duinn dlùth,
A Shlànaigheir, bhon thàinig Thu nuas,
A Shlànaigheir, bhon thàinig Thu nuas,

Sàmhach an oidhch’, naomha an oidhch’,
saoghal ‘na chadal; ‘s a-mach bho ar soills’,
Moire is Iòseph an stàball fàs,
faire os cionn an Leinibh le gradh,
cadal gu nèamhaidh sèimh,
cadal gu nèamhaidh sèimh.

Fiona Mackenzie has a very different translation of Silent Night, entitled Ciùin an oidhch’:

Ciùin an oidhch’, naomh an oidhch’,
aaoghal sèimh, balbh gun soills’,
Moire is Iòsaph, a’ chàraid gaoil,
caithris an naoidhein bheannaichte, chaoimh,
suaint’ ann am fois tha bho Nèamh,
suaint’ ann am fois tha bho Nèamh.

Ciùin an oidhch’, naomh an oidhch’,
nochd an reul a b’àille soills’,
do na cìobairean shuas air a’bheinn,
‘s chualas ainglean le aoibhneas a’seinn:
“Crìosd ar Fear-saoraidh a th’ann;
Crìosd ar Fear-saoraidh a th’ann.”

Ciùin an oidhch’, naomh an oidhch’,
Aoin Mhic Dhè ‘s àille loinn,
gràdh a’dòrtadh oirnn bho do ghnùis,
aoibhneach an uair is Tu còmhnaidh rinn dlùth:
Fàilte dor Slànaighear caoin;
Fàilte dor Slànaighear caoin.


Silent the night, holy the night,
the world is calm, silent and dark,
Mary and Joseph, a couple in love,
watch over the child so blessed and loved,
surrounded by heavenly peace,
surrounded in heavenly peace.

Silent the night, holy the night,
the star that shines lovely and bright,
was seen by shepherds on the hill,
with angels singing their song of joy:
“Christ our Redeemer is here;
Christ our Redeemer is here.”

Silent the night, holy the night,
God’s only son is our delight,
love is shining from His face,
joyous the time You are here close to us:
Our beloved Savior is here;
Our beloved Savior is here.

Baile Beag Bhethleim
(O Little Town of Bethlehem)

A bhaile bhig san d’rugadh Ios’,
cia ciùin a ta do shuain,
os cionn do thosd ‘s do shuaimhneis,
na reultan àlainn shuas,
ach ann ad shràidean cumhang dorch’,
tha ‘n sòlas àigh tha buan,
dòlas is dòchas clann nan daoin’,
an seo a’ cath gu cruaidh.

Oir Iosa, naoidhean Moire chaoimh,
rugadh a-nochd fo d’ chléith,
is ged a chaidil clann nan daoin’,
bha ainglean naomh air sgéith,
‘s bha reultan deàlrach madainn ùir,
a’ co-sheirm shuas air nèamh,
a’ seinn gach glòir do Dhia nan Dùl,
is sìth do dhaoine sèimh.

Cia sàmhach, socair thùirling nuas,
tiodhlac an iongnaidh ghràidh,
Thu Dia compàirt do chloinn a thruais,
do’n bheannachd bhuain nach tràigh.
Cha chuala cluas a theachd do’n tìr,
ach, dh’aindeoin peacaidh gràidh,
tha Crìosd mo ghràidh a’ teachd gu sìor,
do’n chrìdhe dh’fhosglas dha.

A Naoidhein Naoimhe Bhethleheim,
tùirling a nuas a-ris,
tilg asainn lot a’ pheacaidh bhrèin,
bi air do bhreith nar crìdh’.
Gun cluinn sinn fonn an aoibhneis àit’,
na h-ainglean chuir an céill,
o thig a-steach, is fan nar measg,
O Rìgh Immaneul.

_________________
I'm not a native (or entirely fluent) speaker, so be sure to wait for confirmations/corrections, especially for tattoos.


Last edited by CaoimhínSF on Mon 31 Dec 2012 12:02 am, edited 8 times in total.

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PostPosted: Tue 27 Nov 2012 8:15 pm 
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Here are some traditional ones I found described online. They are apparently from a book of many such traditional songs (perhaps not all related to Christmas). I'm including the lead-in text as well.

These carols were sung by a band of men who went about from house to house in the townland. The band selected a leader for their singing and for their actions throughout the night. This leader was called ‘fear-duan,’ song-man, and the others were called ‘fir-fuinn,’ chorus-men. When they had sung their carols at a house, two or three bannocks were handed out to them through a window. The song-man got half of every bannock so received, and the other half went to the chorus-men.

Heire Bannag

Heire Bannag, hoire Bannag,
Heire Bannag, air a bheo.
Chaidh Muire mhìn gheal air a glun,
Is e Rìgh nan dul a bha ‘na h-uchd.

Taobh an t-sorcain, taobh an t-searcain,
Buailtear boicionn air an spar.
‘g innse duinn gun do rugadh Criosd,
Rìgh nan rìgh, à tir na slàint.

Chì mi tulach, chì mi traigh,
Chì mi ullaim air an t-snàmh.
Chì mi ainghlean air an luinn,
Tighinn le cimh is cairdeas duinn.


Hey the Gift, ho the Gift,
Hey the Gift on the living.
The fair Mary went upon her knee,
It was the King of glory who was on her breast.

The side of the sack (?) the side of the sark (?)
The hide is struck upon the spar.
To tell to us that Christ is born,
The King of kings of the land of salvation.

I see the hills, I see the strand,
I see the host upon the wing.
I see angels on clouds [waves],
Coming with speech and friendship to us.

Here's the version of Heire Bannag which Fiona Mackenzie sings on her Duan Nollaig CD:

Heire Bannag

Seisd:
Heire Bannag, hoire Bannag,
Heire Bannag, air a bheo.
Heire Bannag, hoire Bannag,
Heire Bannag, air a bheo.

Mac na niula, Mac na neula,
Mac na runna, Mac na reula’.

Mac na dile, Mac na dèire,
Mac na spire, Mac na speura.

Mac na lasa, Mac na leusa,
Mac na cruinne, Mac na cè.

Mac nan dula, Mac nan nèamha,
Mac na gile, Mac na grèine.

Mac Moire na Dè-meine,
Is Mac Dè tus gach sgeula.

G’ innse dhuinn gu’n d’rugadh Chriosd
Rìgh nan Rìgh, à tir na slàint!


Chorus:
Hey the Gift, ho the Gift,
Hey the Gift, on the living.
Hey the Gift, ho the Gift,
Hey the Gift, on the living.

Son of the dawn, Son of the clouds,
Son of the planet, Son of the star.

Son of the rain, Son of the dew,
Son of the welkin, Son of the sky.

Son of the flame, Son of the light,
Son of the sphere, Son of the globe.

Son of the elements, Son of the heavens,
Son of the moon, Son of the sun.

Son of Mary of the God-mind,
And the Son of God first of all news.

Bannag nam Buadh

Is mise Bannag, is mise Bochd,
Is mise Fear na h-oidhche nochd.
Is mise Mac De anns an dorus,
Di-luain air thuaradh nam bannag.

Is uasal Bride mhin-gheal air a glun,
is uasal High nan dul ‘na h-uchd.
Mac na gile, Mac na greine,
Mac Moire mor na De-meine.

Crois air gach guala dheis,
Mis is dorus, fosgail thusa.
is leir ‘omh tulach, is leir ‘omh traigh,
is leir ‘omh ainghlean tighinn air snamh.
Is leir ‘omh calaman, cuimir, caon,
tighinn le caomh is cairdeas duinn.


Gift of Power

I am the Gift, I am the Poor,
I am the Man of this night.
I am the Son of God in the door,
On Monday seeking the gifts.

Noble is Bridget the gentle fair on her knee,
noble the King of glory on her breast.
Son of the moon, Son of the sun,
Great Son of Mary of God-like mind.

A cross on each right shoulder,
I am in the door, open thou.
I see the hills, I see the strand,
I see angels heralding on high.
I see the dove shapely, benign,
Coming with kindness and friendship to us.

Rugadh Buachaille nan Treud

Oidche sin a dhealraich an reult,
rugadh Buachaille nan treud,
le Oigh nan ceudaibh beus,
Moire Mhathar.

An Trianaid shiorruidh r’a taobh,
ann am frasach fuar, faoin.
Thig ‘s thoir deachamh de d’ mhaoin,
dh’ an t-Slan-Fhear.

An cobhrach, ciochrach, caomh,
gun aon dachaidh fo ‘n t-saoghal,
am Fogaran naomha, maoth,
‘Manul!

A thri ainglibh nam buadh,
thigibh, thigibh a nuas,
do Chriosd an t-sluaigh,
thugaibh failte.

Pogaibh a bhasa,
tioramaichibh a chasa,
le falt bhur cinn;
‘c O, Thi na cruinne,
‘s Iosa, Mhicheil, Mhuire,
na fagaibh sinn.


The Shepherd of the Flock was Born

That night the star shone,
was born the Shepherd of the Flock,
of the Virgin of the hundred charms,
Mother Mary.

The Trinity eternal by her side,
in the manger cold and lowly.
Come and give tithes of thy means,
to the Healing Man.

The foam-white breastling beloved,
without one home in the world,
the tender holy Babe forth driven,
Immanuel!

Ye three angels of power,
come ye, come ye down,
to the Christ of the people,
give ye salutation.

Kiss ye His hands,
dry ye His feet,
with the hair of your heads;
and O, Thou world-pervading God,
and Ye, Jesu, Michael, Mary,
do not Ye forsake us.

_________________
I'm not a native (or entirely fluent) speaker, so be sure to wait for confirmations/corrections, especially for tattoos.


Last edited by CaoimhínSF on Thu 27 Dec 2012 6:48 pm, edited 3 times in total.

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PostPosted: Wed 28 Nov 2012 5:59 am 
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Just ordered two CD's of Gaelic Christmas carols, with some good traditional ones included, so I'll be able to add more here eventually. Both are coming from the UK, though, so it may be after Christmas.

_________________
I'm not a native (or entirely fluent) speaker, so be sure to wait for confirmations/corrections, especially for tattoos.


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PostPosted: Tue 25 Dec 2012 8:43 pm 
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Just in time for Christmas, I received the two Fiona Mackenzie CD's of Gaelic Christmas carols which I'd ordered. There are some really beautiful older songs, as well as a number of translated ones. It will take me some time to get all of the lyrics into a digital version which I can post here, but here are several really nice ones for now from her Duan Nollaig and Brìgh na Nollaig CD's. As noted before, Gaelic spelling is still in flux, so one can see leanbh or leanabh, as well as variants like sèisd/sèist. Bits of these songs can be heard on Amazon and other sites that offer the CD's and individual songs for sale/download.

To those who have seen this thread before, note that I have made some corrections to the prior posts, and added to one of them another version of Heire Bannag.

Note to Irish speakers: I've found that a lot of these songs, since they use fairly easy and repetitive vocabulary, are often pretty easy to understand, and Fiona Mackenzie speaks very clearly as well.

Bà mo Leanabh, Bà [This one is my absolute favorite]

Ann am baile fada bhuainn
rugadh leanabh beag an àigh,
Ann am frasach blàth an stàbull,
Iosa Criosd’, ar Tighearn’, ar Rìgh.

Sèisd:
Bà, bà, bà, bà,
Bà, bà, mo leanabh beag, bà.

Anns na neamhan os ur cionn,
bha an rionnag beag a b’aill.
Leanaidh sinne i mar chairt iùil,
Iosa Criosd’, ar Tighearn’, ar Rìgh.

Sinne bu chor a bhith iriosal,
‘s a bhith uasal as ar Rìgh,
mar chuid chiobairean ga leantail,
Iosa Criosd’, ar Tighearn’, ar Rìgh.


In a town far away from us,
the precious little baby was born,
in the warm manger of the stable,
Jesus Christ , our Lord, our King.

Chorus:
Hush, hush, hush, hush,
Hush, hush, my little child, hush.

In the heavens above us,
was a little star which was beautiful.
We shall follow it like a navigation chart,
Jesus Christ , our Lord, our King.

We must be humble,
and be proud of our King,
following Him like our shepherd,
Jesus Christ , our Lord, our King.

Here's another version of Bà, mo Leanabh which I found online, with quite different words (and a note that there are many versions to the same tune):

Sèisd:
O bà, bà mo leanabh.
Bà mo leanabh, bà.
O bà, bà mo leanabh.
Nì mo leanabhs’ an bà, bà.

Ged tha mi gun chaoraich agam,
‘s caoraich uil’ aig càch,
ged tha mi gun chaoraich agam,
dèan, a leanabh, an bà, bà.

Eudail mhòir a shluaigh an dòmhain,
dhòirt iad d’fhuil an dé,
‘S chuir iad do cheann air stob daraich,
tacan beag bho do chrè.

Dhìrich mi bheinn mhòr gun anal.
Dhìrich agus thearn.
Chuirinn falt mo chinn fo d’ chasan,
agus craicionn mo dhà làimh.


Chorus:
Oh hush-a-bye, my little baby.
Hush, my little baby, hush.
Oh hush-a-bye, my little baby.
My own little baby will go to sleep.

Though I am without a flock of sheep,
and the others all have sheep,
though I am without a flock of sheep,
You, little baby, can go to sleep.

Darling of the people of the great world,
they spilt your blood yesterday.
They put your head on an oaken post,
a little way from your corpse.

I breathlessly climbed the great mountain.
I climbed and I descended.
I would put the hair of my head under your feet,
and the skin of my two hand.

Naoidhean Prìseil [This one is also really beautiful]

Naoidhean beag na shuain an sìth,
le cearcall òir os cionn a chinn,
Mac na h-Oighe, Moire chiùin,
gu stàbull Bhetleheim thig leam.

Sèist:
Alleluia! Glòir don Uan,
‘n Leanabh prìseil ‘s e na shuain.
Alleluia! Rìgh nan rìgh,
Iosa Crìosda, Prionns’ na Sìth.

Seo àm son sunnd is àm son sìth,
aig an Nollaig rugadh Ios’.
Thàinig e an gaol ‘s an gràdh,
a shaoradh saoghail a chaidh ceàrr.

Seud nan nèamhan suaint’ an sìth,
am broilleach Màiri faotainn cìch,
thàinig e thoirt dhuinne saors’,
thug e bheatha son an t-saogh’il.

Còmhla riumsa seinn gu h-àrd,
ann an cànain tìr an àigh.
Ainglean Dhè a’seinn san speur,
tha sinne saor – nach ait an sgeul!


Precious Child

A little child sleeps in peace,
a golden halo round his head,
Son of the gentle Virgin Mary,
come to the stable in Bethlehem.

Chorus:
Hallelujah! Glory to the lamb,
the precious Child who’s sound asleep.
Hallelujah! King of kings,
Jesus Christ, the Prince of Peace.

This is a time for joy and peace,
the time when Jesus was born.
He came in love and humility,
to save a fallen world.

Jewel of heaven wrapped in peace,
suckling at Mary’s breast,
He came for our salvation,
He gave His life for the world.

Sing aloud with me,
in the tongue of our beloved land.
God’s angels singing in the skies,
we are free – the gospel’s good news!

[deleted one here, because it was already in an earlier message]

and this Scottish Gaelic version of the Irish carol Leanbh sa Mháinsear (which someone has noted on the Irish thread was translated from the Gaelic version), to the tune of "Morning Has Broken":

Leanbh an Àigh

Leanbh an Àigh, an leanabh aig Màiri,
rugadh san stàbull, Rìgh nan Dùl.
Thàinig don fhàsach, dh’fhuiling nar n-àite,
son’ iad an àireamh bhitheas dhà dlùth!

Ged a bhios leanabain aig rìghrean na talmhainn,
an greadhnachas garbh is anabarr mùirn,
‘s gear gus am falbh iad, ‘s fàsaidh iad anfhann,
an ailleachd ‘s an dealbh a’ searg san ùir.

Cha b’ionnan ‘s an t-Uan thàinig gur fuasgladh,
Iriosal, stuama ghluais e’n tùs;
e naomh gun truailleachd, Cruithfhear an t-sluaigh,
dh’èirich e suas le buaidh on ùir.

Leanbh an àigh, mar dh’aithris na fàidhean,
‘s na h-àinglean àrd’, b’e miann an sùl.
‘s e ‘s airidh air gràdh ‘s air urram thoirt dhà,
sona an àireamh bhitheas dhà dlùth.


The Blessed Infant

Blessed is the infant, Infant of Mary,
born in a stable, King of the earth.
He came into the world, suffered for us,
happy the people who’ll trust in him!

Though sons are born to kings of this earth,
in greatness of joy and greatly loved,
their life will be short and they’ll grow weak,
their beauty and form fade in the grave.

How different the Lamb Who came to deliver,
humble and modest Right from his birth;
Undefiled and holy, Creator of all,
he rose victorious from the grave.

Blessed the infant, foretold by prophets,
and for archangels he was a delight,
he’s worthy of honor and worship by people,
happy are they who’ll trust in Him!

_________________
I'm not a native (or entirely fluent) speaker, so be sure to wait for confirmations/corrections, especially for tattoos.


Last edited by CaoimhínSF on Thu 27 Dec 2012 7:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Tue 25 Dec 2012 9:03 pm 
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Here is a song which is usually sung at Midnight Mass in the Catholic parts of the Outer Hebrides (although the piece has become popular among Protestants also). The 29 verses of the hymn date from the 19th century and are intended to represent a lullaby for the Christ Child by the Blessed Virgin. The words are recorded as being composed by Fr. Ranald Rankin of Fort William for the children of Moidart, as a cuimhneach when he left the parish, and were originally entitled Tàladh ar Slànuighear (the Lullaby of our Savior) and sung to a tune called Cumha Mhic Àrois (the Lament for Mac Àrois). The song was popularized among English speakers in the early 20th century by Marjory Kennedy-Fraser under the title The Christ-Child’s Lullaby.

First, here is a short version sung by Fiona Mackenzie in her CD. The full text of the original follows.

Tàladh Chrìosda

Mo ghaol, mo ghradh, is m’eudail thu,
m’ionntas ur is m’eibhneas thu, *
mo mhacan alainn ceutach thu,
cha ‘n fhiu mi fhein a bhi ‘ad dhail.

Aleluiah, Aleluiah, Aleluiah, Aleluiah.

**

Mo ghaol an t-suil a sheallas tlà,
mo ghaol an cridh ‘tha liont ‘le gràdh.
Ged is leanamh thu gun chàil
‘s lionmhor buaidh tha ort a’ fàs.


* she actually sings gur ionntas
** Two other verses, not sung on the CD, are in the the printed lyrics in her songbook.

My love, my love and my treasure are You,
my treasure and my joy are You,
my lovely, becoming son are You,
I’m not worthy of being near You.

Alleluiah, Alleluiah, Alleluiah, Alleluiah.

My love the eye that looks mild,
my love the heart that is filled with love.
Though You be a baby without a strong constitution
many are the virtues which on You grow.

Full Text:

Tàladh ar Slanuigheir [Yes, another way to spell Slànuighear]

Mo ghaol, mo ghradh, ’s m’fheudail thu,
m’ionntas ur ’s n’ eibhneas thu,
mo mhacan aluinn ceutach thu,
cha ‘n fhiu mi fein bhi ‘d dhail.

Aleluiah, Aleluiah, Aleluiah, Aleluiah.

Ge ‘mòr an t-aobhar cliu dhomh e,
‘s mòr an t-aobhar curaim e,
‘s mòr an t-aobhar umhlachd e,
Righ nan dùl ‘bhi ‘m laimh.

Ge d’ is leanamh diblidh thu,
cinnteach ‘s Righ nan Righrean thu.
‘S tu ‘n t-oighre dligheach, firinneach
air Rioghachd Dhé nan gràs.

Ge d’ is Righ na glorach thu,
dhiult iad an tigh-osda dhuit,
ach chualas ainglean solasach,
‘toirt gloir do’n Tì is àird.

Bu mhòr solas agus ioghnadh,
buachaillean bochda nan caorach,
‘nuair chual iad na h-ainglean a’ glaodhaich,
“Thainig Slanui’ear thun an t-saoghail”.

B’ e sin an ceol, ‘s an naigheachd aghmhor,
‘sheinn na h-ainglean anns na h-ardaibh,
ag innseadh gu’n d’ rugadh Slanui’ear,
am Betlehem, am baile Dhaibhidh.

B’ e sin sgeula binn nam beannachd,
mu’n aoidh a rinn tearnadh gu talamh.
Cha’n ioghnadh mi ‘bhi muirneach, geanail,
is gile na ghrian mo leanamh.

Dh’ fhoillsich reulta dha na righrean,
lean iad i mar iuil gu dileas,
fhuair iad ‘n am achlais fhein thu,
is rinn iad umhlachd dhuit gu lar.

Thairg iad or dhuit, mirr a’s tuis,
thug iad aoradh dhuit a’s cliu.
B’ e turas an aigh do ‘n triuir,
‘thainig a shealltuinn mo ruin.

‘O na dh’ innis aingeal Dé dhuinn,
gu’n robh ‘n fhoill an cridhe Heroid,
dh’ fhalbh sinne leat do’n Eiphit,
g’ a sheachnadh mu’n deanta beud ort.

O! ‘Heroid a chridhe chruaidh,
cha choisinn t’’innleachd dhuit buaidh.
‘S lionar mathair dh’fhag thu truagh,
‘s tu dian an toir air bàs mo luaidh.

‘S fhada, fhada, bho ludea,
tearuinte bho d’ chlaidheamh geur e.
‘Measg nam mac cha d’fhuair thu fein e,
‘s fallain, slan thu, ‘s fath dhomh eibhneas.

Dh’ aindeoin do mì-rùn a ‘s t’fharmaid,
bidh mo mhac-sa cliuiteach, ainmeil.
Cha chuir e uigh an òr n’an airgiod,
a rioghachd cha rioghachd thalmhaidh.

Gur galach, brònach, tùrsach iad,
an drast ann an Ierusalem.
A’ caoidh nam macan ùra sin,
‘s b’ e ‘n diubhail ‘n cur gu bas.

Tha Rachel an diugh fo bhròn,
a’ caoidh a paisdean aluinn, òg.
‘S frasach air a gruaidh na deoir
bho nach ‘eil iad aice beo.

Tha mi ‘g altrum Righ na mòrachd,
‘s mise mathair Dhe na gloire,
Nach buidhe, nach sona dhomhsa,
tha mo chridhe làn do sholas.

Thainig, thainig am Messiah,
fhuair na faidhean uile ‘n guidhe.
‘S fhada bho ‘n b’ aill leo thu thighinn,
‘s aluinn thu air mo ruighe.

A ghnothach gu talamh cha b’ fhaoin e,
cheannach sabhaladh chloinn daoine.
‘S e ‘m Fear-reite ‘s am Fear-saoraidh,
Is e ‘n Slanui’ear gradhach caomh e.

Ciamar a dh’ eirich dhomhsa,
‘measg an t-sluaigh a bhi cho sonruicht’?
‘S e toil a’s cumhachd na gloire
Mac bhi agam ge d’ is oigh mi.

‘S mise fhuair an ulaidh phrìseil,
uiseil, uasal, luachmhor, fhinealt.
‘N diugh cha dual dhomh bhi fo mhighean,
‘s coltach ri bruadar an fhirinn.

Cha tuig ainglean naomh no daoine,
gu la deireannach an t-saoghail,
meud do throcair a’s do ghaoil-sa,
tighinn a ghabhail coluinn daonnta.

Bheir mi moladh, bheir mi aoradh,
bheir mi cliu dhuit, bheir mi gaol dhuit.
Tha thu agam air mo ghairdean,
‘s mi tha sona thar chloinn daoine.

Mo ghaol an t-suil a sheallas tlà,
mo ghaol an cridh ‘tha liont ‘le gràdh.
Ged is leanamh thu gun chàil
‘s lionmhor buaidh tha ort a’ fàs.

M’ ulaidh, m’ aighear, a’s mo luaidh thu,
Rùn, a’s gaol, a’s gràdh an t-sluaigh thu.
‘S tus’ an Tì a bheir dhoibh fuasgladh,
bho chuibhreach an namhaid uaibhrich.

‘S tu Righ nan righ, ‘s tu naomh nan naomh.
Dia am Mac thu ‘s siorruidh t’aois.
‘S tu mo Dhia ‘s mo leanamh gaoil,
‘s tu àrd cheann-feadhna ‘chinne-daonn’.

‘S tusa grian gheal an dòchais,
chuireas dorchadas air fògairt.
Bheir thu clann-daoin’ bho staid bhrònaich,
gu naomhachd, soilleireachd, a’s eòlas.

Thigeadh na sloigh chur ort failte,
dheanadh umhlachd dhuit mar Shlanui’ear.
Bidh solas mòr am measg siol Adhamh,
thainig am Fear-saoraidh, thainig!

Thig a pheacaich, na biodh sgàth ort,
gheibh thu na dh’ iarras tu ‘ghrasan.
Ge d’ bhiodh do chiontan dearg mar sgàrlaid,
bidh t’anam geal mar shneachd nan àrd-bheann.

Hosanah do Mhac Dhaibhidh,
mo Righ, mo Thighearna, ‘s mo Shlanui’ear.
‘S mòr mo sholas bhi ga d’ thaladh,
‘s beannaichte am measg nam mnai mi.


My love, my love and my treasure are You,
my treasure and my joy are You,
my lovely, becoming son are You,
I’m not worthy of being near You,
Alleluiah, Alleluiah, Alleluiah, Alleluiah.

Though it’s a reason for praise to me,
it’s a great reason for care,
it’s a great reason for homage,
the King of the Elements being in my arms.

Though You’re a feeble baby,
for sure, the King of Kings are You.
You’re the rightful, true heir,
of the Kingdom of God of the graces.

Though the King of Glory are You,
they refused the inn to You,
but joyful angels were heard,
giving glory to the Highest One.

Great was the joy and wonder,
of the poor shepherds of the sheep,
when they heard the angels crying out,
“A Savior has come to the world”.

That was the music and the joyous news,
that the angels sang in the heights,
telling that a Savior was born,
in Bethlehem, in the town of David.

That was the sweet tale of the blessings,
about the guest that did descend from heaven.
It’s no surprise that I’m light and cheerful,
fairer/whiter than the sun is my baby.

A star manifested for the kings,
they followed her like a guide faithfully,
they found You in my clasp,
and they made obeisance to You down to the floor.

They offered gold to You, myrrh and incense,
they gave adoration to You and praise.
That was the journey of joy for the three men,
who came to see my dearest.

Since the angel of God told us,
that deceit was in the heart of Herod,
we left with You for Egypt,
evading him before harm was done to You.

O Herod, of the hard heart,
your contrivance will not gain you victory.
Many the mothers that you left wretched,
when you were vehement in pursuit of the death of my dear one.

Far, far from Judea,
safe from your sharp sword is He.
Among the sons you didn’t find Him,
You are healthy, whole, and a cause of rejoicing to me.

Despite your ill-will and your envy,
my Son will be renowned, famous.
He won’t show interest in gold or in silver,
His Kingdom tis not an earthly kingdom.

Wailing, sorrowful, weary are they,
now in Jerusalem.
Lamenting those new sons,
their putting to death was a tragedy indeed.

Rachel today is sorrowful,
lamenting her lovely young child.
Streaming on her cheek are the tears,
since she doesn’t have them alive.

I’m rearing the King of Majesty,
I’m the mother of the God of Glory.
How fortunate, how happy for me,
my heart is full of joy.

The Messiah has come, has come,
all the prophets have got their wish.
They’ve long desired for You to come,
You’re lovely on my forearm.

His business on earth, it isn’t futile,
to buy the salvation of the children of men.
He’s the Reconciler and the Redeemer,
He is the loving gentle Savior.

How has it happened that I,
among the people am so special?
It’s the will and power of Glory,
to have a son though I be a virgin.

Tis I who have found the priceless treasure,
worthy, noble, valuable and fine.
Today I’m not disposed to be discontent,
tis like a dream the truth.

Neither holy angels nor men will understand,
till the last day of the world,
the extent of Your mercy and Your love,
coming to take a human body.

I give you praise, I give you adoration,
I give you praise, I give you love.
I have you in my arms,
tis I who am happy over the children of men.

My love the eye that looks mild,
my love the heart that is filled with love.
Though You be a baby without a strong constitution
many are the virtues which on You grow.

My treasure, my joy and my dearest are You,
my darling and love and love of the people are You.
You’re the One who brings them liberation,
from the bond of the haughty Enemy.

You’re the King of Kings, You’re the Holy of Holies.
God the Son are You, eternal is Your age.
You’re my God and my beloved baby,
you’re the high chief of the children of men.

You’re the fair/white sun of hope,
who banishes darkness.
You bring the children of men from a sorry state,
to holiness, illumination and knowledge.

The peoples would come to welcome You,
they would pay homage to You as Savior.
There will be great joy among the seed of Adam,
the Redeemer has come, has come!

Come, O sinner, do not fear,
you’ll get what you want of graces.
Though your faults be red like scarlet,
your soul will be white like the snow of the high hills.

Hosanna to the Son of David,
my King, my Lord and my Savior.
Great is my joy to be lulling You,
blessed among the women am I.

_________________
I'm not a native (or entirely fluent) speaker, so be sure to wait for confirmations/corrections, especially for tattoos.


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PostPosted: Mon 31 Dec 2012 12:15 am 
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More Gaelic Christmas Music, now that I have my new CD's and have managed to get the lyrics in digital form:

A Rìgh nan Rìghean
Notes:
-- The plural of Rìgh can also be written/pronounced Rìghrean
-- I'm not clear why this isn't Rìgh nan Rìgh, using the genitive plural as in one or two other songs shown in this thread (or, actually, it would be the vocative here, using the genitive form). It may just be the need for another syllable to fit the tune, or there may be a grammatical principle of which I'm not aware.

A Rìgh nan Rìghean, mo Rìgh na phàisde,
san fhrasaich ìseal, ri taobh a mhàthar;
Moire mhìn, le guth-cinn ga thàladh,
an teaghlach naomh sin a shaor gach nàisean.

‘S e nochd an oidhche tha gealltainn sìth dhuinn,
bhon pheacaich Adhamh an gàrradh Eden;
Dia na phàisde san stàball ìseal,
o sgeul an àigh bha gach fàidh ag innse.

Sheinn na h-ainglean an laoidh le sòlas;
dh’fhàg na buachaillean bhuap’ an dròbhan;
shoills an reul air an speur gan treòrach,
dhan stàball ìseal gu Rìgh na Glòrach.

‘S e seo an oidhche thug dhuinn ar dòchas;
seo an oidhche mun cluinn gach deòraidh;
oidhch’ thug teàrnadh o bhàs bu beò dhuinn,
le solas Chrìosda na leus sa cheò dhuinn.

O thigibh leam, thigibh leam dhan stàball,
geata cinnteach na sligh’ gu Pàrras-
a’ feitheamh shìos ann tha Ios’ am pàisde,
‘s tha duais a’ chrùinn aig’ air cùl a’ bhàis dhuinn.


O King of Kings

O King of Kings is the child King
in the lowly manger by His mother;
gentle Mary sings a lullaby,
to the Holy child who can save the world.

This night brings us the promise of peace,
since Adam sinned in Eden;
God a child in the lowly stable,
the prophets foretold the good news.

The angels sang a joyful hymn;
the shepherds left their herds;
the star shone to guide them.
to the humble stable of the King of Glory.

This was the night which gave us hope;
this is the night all the poor will hear of;
the night with hope of redemption from death to life,
with Jesus’ light to guide us.

O come, come with me to the stable,
the sure gate to Paradise;
waiting there is the child Jesus,
who’ll await after death with a crown of reward.

Anns an Dùbhlachd gheamhraidh
Notes:
-- The translation "in the bleak midwinter" is not literal. The Gaelic means "in the blackness/darkness of the winter", but the idea is close.
-- An Dùbhlachd is also the modern Gaelic term for the month of December, but the names of the months are a modern creation. The Gaels traditionally had names for periods of the year, and an Dùbhlachd was the dark period in winter, but not corresponding exactly with the month of December.

Anns an Dùbhlachd gheamhraidh,
lann sa ghaoith a tuath,
b’iarann ùir na talmhainn,
‘s aibhnean reòdhta cruaidh;
cathadh sneachd’ chuir dall bhrat
thar gach sliabh;
anns an Dùbhlachd gheamhraidh,
fad’ o chian.

Dia mòr tha cho buadhmhor,
Uachd’ran thar gach nì.
Talamh ‘s speur th’air fuadach,
nuair thig e mar Rìgh;
ach san dùbhlachd gheamhraidh,
connlach prasaich dhìon,
‘s shocraich leabaibh ‘n leanabain,
Iosa Crìosd.

Ainglean is àrd-ainglean,
sheinn an còisir bhinn,
Cerubim is seraphim
chruinnich os a chin;
ged nach d’aithnich càch E,
ach a-mhàin an Oigh,
b’adhradh don Fhear Ghràdhach,
blàths a pòig.

Ciod a dhìolas truaghan
mar tha mi nis dhà?
Nan robh mi nam bhuachaill,
thairgsinn uan le gràdh.
Gliocas inntinn lùiginn
ann a chùis bhith strì,
sin dìolam dhà le sunndachd,
umhlachd crìdh’.


In the bleak midwinter

In the bleak midwinter,
the north wind is cold,
the ground is frozen solid,
and the rivers too;
a blizzard puts a blindfold,
on every hill around;
in the deep of winter,
many years ago.

The great, victorious God,
is Lord over all.
Heaven and earth will be banished,
when He comes as King;
but in deep of winter,
on the manger’s straw,
settled the little child,
Jesus Christ.

Angels and archangels,
sang sweetly as a choir;
Cherubim and seraphim,
gathered above him,
although they didn’t know Him,
apart from the Virgin;
Her warm kiss,
worshipped her Beloved.

What can a poor one
like me give to him?
If I were a shepherd,
I’d offer a lamb in love.
I wish for wisdom,
in striving for Him;
and I’ll happily give him,
humility of heart.

Bha buachaillean an dùthaich shear

Bha buachaillean an dùthaich shear,
a ‘fair’ an treud san oidhch’,
nuair thàinig aingeal uc’ bho neamh,
is las an sliabh le soills.
Gun d’chlisg na fir ach thuirt e riu,
“Chan eagal dhuibh gu fior,
tha naidheachd aoibhneach, ur agam
dhuibh fhèinis do gach linn”.

“Tha Slànaighear an t-saoghail seo,
an Criosd, an Tìghearna naomh,
a-nochd air tigh’nn do Bhetlehem,
na leanamh dìblidh, caomh;
is gheibh sibh e ‘s e paisgte teann,
am frasaich bhlàth san fheur,
a’naoidhean prìseil, neamhaidh e,
a ghealladh dhuine riamh”.

Mar sin a thuirt an seraph riu,
‘s gu clis bha’n t-adhar làn,
de ainglean ‘s iad a’seinn gu binn,
‘a b’e seo bu bhrìgh don dàn;
Gach glòir do Dhia ‘s na neamhaibh shuas,
sìth bhuan air thalamh tà!
Gach glòir do Dhia ‘s na neamhaibh shuas,
Sìth bhuan air thalamh tà!”


There were shepherds in an eastern country

There were shepherds in an eastern country,
watching their flocks by night,
when there came an angel from heaven,
and the slope lit up with light.
The men were terrified but he said to them,
“truly fear not,
for I bring good tidings of great joy,
to you and all generations”.

“The Savior of the world,
the Christ, the Lord,
tonight has come to Bethlehem,
as a helpless, gentle child;
and you shall find him securely wrapped,
in a warm manger in the hay,
the precious, heavenly babe,
promised to us since the beginning of time”.

Thus said the angel to them,
and suddenly the heavens were full,
of angels singing sweetly,
and this was what they sang;
“Glory to God up in the heavens,
everlasting peace on earth!
Glory to God in the heavens,
everlasting peace on earth!”

Oidhche Nollaige Moire

Hoire! Hoire! Beannaicht e!
Hoire! Hoire! Beannaicht e!
Hoire! Hoire! Beannaicht e’n
Righ dh’am bi sinn a’seinn,
Ho! Ro! Biodh aoibh!

Nochd oidhche Nollaige moire,
rugadh Mac na Moir Oighe,
rainig a bhonnaibh an lar,
Mac nam buadh a nuas o’n ard,
dhealraich neamh is cruinne dha,
Ho! Ro! Biodh aoibh!

Seimh saoghal dha, sona neamh dha,
feuch rainig a bhonn an lar,
fodhail Righ dha, failt Uain dha,
Rìgh nam buadh, Uan nan àigh,
shoillsich cluan agus cuanta dha,
Ho! Ro! Biodh aoibh!

Shoillsich frith dha, shoillsich fonn dha,
nuall nan tonn le fonn nan tragh,
ag innse dhuinne gun d’rugadh Criosda,
Mac Righ nan rìgh a tìr na slaint;
shoillsich grian nam beannaibh ard dha,
Ho! Ro! Biodh aoibh!

Shoillsich ce dha is cruinne comhla,
dh’ fhosgail De an Domhnaich sorus.
A Mhic Mhuir Oighe greas ga’m chomhnadh,
A Chriosd an dochais, a Chomhla ’n t-sonais,
Oradh Ghreine shleibh is mhonaidh.
Ho! Ro! Biodh aoibh!


The Eve of Big/Great Christmas

Hail! Hail! Blessed is He!
Hail! Hail! Blessed is he!
Hail! Hail! Blessed is he,
the King of whom we sing.
Hail! Let there be joy!

Tonight is the eve of the great Nativity,
born is the Son of Mary the Virgin,
the soles of his feet have reached the earth,
the Son of glory down from on high,
Heaven and earth glowed to Him,
Hail! Let there be joy!

The peace of earth to Him, the joy of heaven to Him,
behold his feet have reached the world;
the homage of a king be His, the welcome of a lamb be His,
King all victorious, Lamb all glorious,
Earth and ocean illuminated to Him,
Hail! Let there be joy!

The mountains glowed to Him, the plains glowed to Him,
the voice of the waves with the song of the strand,
announcing to us that Christ is born,
Son of the King of kings from the land of salvation;
the sun shone on the mountains high to Him,
Hail! Let there be joy!

The earth and sphere together to Him;
God the Lord has opened a door.
Son of Mary Virgin, hasten thou to help me,
Thou Christ of hope, thou Door of joy,
Golden Sun of hill and mountain.
Hail! Let there be joy!

_________________
I'm not a native (or entirely fluent) speaker, so be sure to wait for confirmations/corrections, especially for tattoos.


Last edited by CaoimhínSF on Fri 11 Jan 2013 9:17 pm, edited 3 times in total.

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PostPosted: Mon 31 Dec 2012 12:22 am 
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Joined: Sun 04 Sep 2011 11:02 pm
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I also found the full (I think) lyrics to the Manx carol, Oikan ayns Bethlehem, for which someone posted a sound file (or a link to it) not long ago. It has been translated into Scottish Gaelic, so I thought I'd post the Manx, English, and Gaelic lyrics here. The Gaelic translation (which should be pretty easy for Irish speakers to follow) makes it easier to make out the Manx.

Oikan ayns Bethlehem

Nish lhisagh shin yn feailley shoh,
y reayll lesh creeaghyn glen,
ayns cooinaghtyn jeh Yeesey Chreest,
oikan ayns Bethlehem.

Daag Eh cooyrtn sollys E Ayr,
goaill er yn dooghys ain,
ruggit jeh Moidyn ghlen gyn chron,
oikan ayns Bethlehem.

Eisht ainleyn Niau ren boggey ghoaill,
haink lesh ny naightyn hooin,
ginsh jeh Saualtagh ruggiy jiu,
oikan ayns Bethlehem.

Nagh mooar yn insblid as y ghraih,
v'ayns Yeesey Chreest yn Eayn,
tra ghow Eh er cummey harvaant,
oikan ayns Bethlehem.

Ard gloyr da Jee 'syn yrjid heose,
ta reill ayns maynrys beayn,
aigney mie Yee nish soilhit dooin,
oikan ayns Bethlehem.


A Child in Bethlehem

Now we ought this festival,
to keep with clean hearts,
in memory of Jesus Christ,
as a child in Bethlehem.

He left the bright courts of His Father,
taking on our nature,
born of a pure virgin without blemish,
as a child in Bethlehem.

Hear the angels coming from Heaven,
singing with joy and cheer,
telling of a Savior [born] for us,
as a child in Bethlehem.

How great the humility and the love,
which was in Jesus Christ the Lamb,
when he took on the form of a servant,
as a child in Bethlehem.

Great Glory to God in the heights above,
who rules in everlasting happiness,
the goodwill of God now shown to us
as a child in Bethlehem.

Scottish Gaelic translation:

Nis’ cumamaid latha feist’ an seo,
le cridhe direach glàn,
mar cuimhneachan do dh’Iosa Chriost’,
‘na phàist am Betlehem.

Dh’fhàg Iosa cuairt an Athair glàn,
ghabh E ar nàdur fhèin,
rugadh do Mhaighdeann fhior gun smal
‘na phàist’ am Betlehem.

Èist ris na h-Ainglean teachd o Neamh,
a’ seinn le ait is mùirn,
ag innseadh mar tha Slànaighear dhuinn,
‘na phàist’ am Betlehem.

Cia mòr an toirisleachd is gràdh,
‘bh’aig Iosa Chriost’ an t-Uan,
nuair ghabh E cumadh searbhanta,
‘na phàist’ am Betlehem.

Àrd ghlòr do Dhia ‘s na h-àrdaibh shuas,
na riaghailt shona, bhuan,
a’ nochdadh aigne mhath dhuinn uil’,
‘na phaist’ am Betlehem.

_________________
I'm not a native (or entirely fluent) speaker, so be sure to wait for confirmations/corrections, especially for tattoos.


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PostPosted: Thu 05 Dec 2013 11:30 pm 
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I'm bumping up these carols again for this latest holiday season, and adding some more:

Ann am Baile Rioghail Dhaibhidh

Ann am Baile Rioghail Dhaibhidh,
ann am bàthaich ìosail thruaigh,
chàraich màthair chaomh, a Leanabh,
anns a’ phrasaich, ‘s e ‘na shuain.
Moire ainm na màthar chaoimh,
Iosa Chrìosd a Leanabh gaoil.

Thùirling ebho nèamh gu thalamh,
ged bu Dhia nan uile e,
‘b e an staball thug dha fasgadh,
bi a chreathail prasach bhreun.
Leis a’ bhochd is leis an truaghan,
thàthaich Slànaighear caomh neo-thruaillidh.

Is tri laithean àigh a leanabachd,
thug e urram agus spèis,
umhlachd graidh do’n mhaighdinn ainnir,
dh’altraim e ‘na uile fheum.
Sin mar dh’fheumas òigridh Chrìosda
Spèis is urran thoirt do dh’Iosa.

Oir is esan ar eiseamplair,
dh’fhàs e suas mar aon d’ar seòrs’.
Bha e lag is maoth neo-lochdach,
shil e deòir is chuich E spòrs,
‘s tha cho-fhaireachdainn gun chaochladh,
ann am bròn ‘s an aoibhneas daonnan.

Once in David’s royal city
[the English original has more verses than this, but I only have the Gaelic for the ones shown here]

Once in David’s royal city,
in a lowly cattle shed,
where a mother laid her Baby,
in a manger for his bed:
Mary was that mother mild,
Jesus Christ her little Child.

He came down to earth from Heaven,
who is God and Lord of all,
and his shelter was a stable,
and his cradle was a stall.
With the poor, and mean, and lowly,
lived on earth our Savior holy.

And, through all His wondrous childhood,
he would honor and obey,
love and watch the lowly maiden,
in whose gentle arms he lay.
Christian children all must be,
mild, obedient, good as he.

For he is our childhood’s pattern;
day by day, like us He grew.
He was little, weak and helpless,
tears and smiles like us he knew,
and he feeleth for our sadness,
and he shareth in our gladness.

Aoibhneas Moire Mhin

A chiad aoibhneas fhuair a Mhaighdinn Moire Mhin,
b’e sin an t-aoibhneas mòr,
aoibhneas a fhuair i bho a h-aon mhac uasal,
bhi faicinn a leanabh slàn beò.

An dàrna aoibhneas fhuair a Mhaighdinn Moire mhin,
b’e sin an t-aoibhneas mòr,
aoibhneas a fhuair i bho a h-aon mhac uasal,
bhi measg a càirdean coir.

An treas aoibhneas fhuair a Mhaighdinn Moire Mhin,
b’e sin an t-aoibhneas mòr,
aoibhneas a fhuair i bho a h-aon mhac uasal,
bhi cruinneachadh tain bho chron.

An ceathramh aoibhneas fhuair a Mhaighdinn Moire Mhin,
b’e sin an t-aoibhneas mòr,
aoibhneas a fhuair i bho a h-aon mhac uasal,
bhi buachailleachd do chlann nan daoin’.

An coigeamh aoibhneas fhuair a Mhaighdinn Moire Mhin,
b’e sin an t-aoibhneas mòr,
aoibhneas a fhuair i bho a h-aon mhac uasal,
bhi na màthair do chlann nan daoin’.

An siathamh aoibhneas fhuair a Mhaighdinn Moire Mhin,
b’e sin an t-aoibhneas mòr,
aoibhneas a fhuair i bho a h-aon mhac uasal,
bhi toir sìth do neach tha naomh.

An seachdamh aoibhneas fhuair a Mhaighdinn Moire Mhin,
b’e sin an t-aoibhneas mòr,
aoibhneas a fhuair i bho a h-aon mhac uasal,
bhi làn sonas Dhè nan Glòir.

Mary’s Joy

The first joy which Mary received,
was a great joy,
a joy received from her noble son,
to see her child alive and well.

The second joy which Mary received,
was a great joy,
a joy received from her noble son,
to be among her kindly friends.

The third joy which Mary received,
was a great joy,
a joy received from her noble son,
to keep the flock from harm.

The fourth joy which Mary received,
was a great joy,
a joy received from her noble son,
to shepherd a flock safely.

The fifth joy which Mary received,
was a great joy,
a joy received from her noble son,
to be a mother to mankind.

The sixth joy which Mary received,
was a great joy,
a joy received from her noble son,
to give peace to a holy one.

The seventh joy which Mary received,
was a great joy,
a joy received from her noble son,
to be full of the joy of the God of Glory.

Bannag nam Buadh

Is mise Bannag, is mise Bochd,
Is mise Fear na h-oidhche nochd.
Is mise Mac De anns an dorus,
Di-luain air thuaradh nam bannag.

Is uasal Bride mhin-gheal air a glun,
is uasal High nan dul ‘na h-uchd.
Mac na gile, Mac na greine,
Mac Moire mor na De-meine.

Crois air gach guala dheis,
Mis is dorus, fosgail thusa.
is leir ‘omh tulach, is leir ‘omh traigh,
is leir ‘omh ainghlean tighinn air snamh.
Is leir ‘omh calaman, cuimir, caon,
tighinn le caomh is cairdeas duinn.

Gift of Power

I am the Gift, I am the Poor,
I am the Man of this night.
I am the Son of God in the door,
On Monday seeking the gifts.

Noble is Bridget the gentle fair on her knee,
noble the King of glory on her breast.
Son of the moon, Son of the sun,
Great Son of Mary of God-like mind.

A cross on each right shoulder,
I am in the door, open thou.
I see the hills, I see the strand,
I see angels heralding on high.
I see the dove shapely, benign,
Coming with kindness and friendship to us.

Nach glòrmhor an naidheachd

Nach glòrmhor an naidheachd,
th’air aithris do’n t-sluagh,
a thàrmaich an toiseach,
‘s an t-siorruidheachd shuas,
gu’n d’rùnaich an Trianaid,
an Dia tha bith-bhuan,
‘n dara-pearsa thighinn iosal,
Mac Dhè mar an t-Uan.

Nach glòrmhor an naidheachd,
chaidh aithris o’n nèamh,
‘n uair dhealraich an solus,
bha milis ‘n a ghnè,
bha Chriodsa ‘s a gheallaidh,
mar ullachadh Dhè,
‘s e meadhon a’ghàraidh,
‘s e deàrrsadh ro threun.

Nach glòrmhor an naidheachd,
bhios air aithris gu bràth,
gu’n d’thàinig Fear-Saoraidh,
measg dhaoine gu tàmh.
Gu’n d’laigh e ‘s a’phrasaich,
mar thoraich air gràdh,
bha glusad ‘n a iomart,
teachd shaoradh o nàmh.

How glorious the message

How glorious the message,
the people have heard,
everlastingly uttered,
as God’s own true word,
the eternal intention,
of God Three in One
has come down among us,
as Lamb and as Son.

How glorious the message,
told down from the height,
so sweet in its nature,
when first shone that light,
for Christ had been promised,
as God had foreknown,
in the midst of this dark plot,
His beams boldly shone.

How glorious the message,
forever and aye,
a Savior is with us,
amongst us to stay.
He lay in a manger,
fulfillment of love,
from the enemy saving,
so surely did move.

Seall thall tighinn bhon ear

Seall thall tighinn bhon ear, le sealladh bho Nèamh,
tha daoine nan cabhaig a’ leantainn na rèilt;
san stàball le leanabh tha Moire cho sèimh,
am prasaich, gun ghearain, gràdh Dhè dhuinn.

Sèisd:
O reult’, thoir dhomh soillse ’s an oidhch’ a’fàs dorch’,
mi creidsinn do gheallaidh, mo thaic thu ’s mo threòir;
cuir solas air slighe a rithist led ghlòir,
ach am faic mi am prasaich do ghràdh dhomh.

Thàinig ainglean gu talamh le moladh is seinn,
air mòintich gach cìobair le chaoraich am faing;
theich cadal is leum iad, le aoibhneas toirt taing,
is ruith iad nan deann chun an stàbaill.

Cha sguir ainglean a chaoidh a’moladh a ghràidh,
san reult bidh soillse a dh’oidhche ‘s a là;
bidh’m fonn ud nan cluasan ’s nan cridhe gu bràth,
am prasaich, san stàball, gràdh Dhè dhuinn.

Look there coming from the East

Look there coming from the East, tinged from the Heavens,
people hurrying as they follow the star;
in the stable with the baby Mary is so quiet,
the manger, so serene, God with us.

Chorus:
O star, give us light with the night growing dark,
I believe your promise, you are my support and my security;
bring light on the journey again in your glory,
till I see the manger with your love for me.

Angels came to earth with praise and song,
on the moors each shepherd with sheep in the fold;
sleep fled and they leaped with joy, giving thanks,
and ran headlong for the stable.

Angels will never stop praising his love,
to you will be light night and day;
the song will be in their ears and warm hearts,
the manger, in the stable, God’s love with us.

_________________
I'm not a native (or entirely fluent) speaker, so be sure to wait for confirmations/corrections, especially for tattoos.


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PostPosted: Thu 05 Dec 2013 11:57 pm 
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Joined: Sun 04 Sep 2011 11:02 pm
Posts: 1269
And, for those who just have to have it, the Twelve Days of Christmas in Gaelic:

Air a chiad là den Nollaig, chuir m’eudail thugam fhìn,
smeòrach le ceileireadh binn.

Air an darna là den Nollaig, chuir m’eudail thugam fhìn,
dà chalman agus smeòrach le ceileireadh binn.

Air an treas là den Nollaig, chuir m’eudail thugam fhìn,
trì cearcan-fraoich, dà chalman, agus smeòrach le ceileireadh binn.

Air a’cheathramh là den Nollaig, chuir m’eudail thugam fhìn,
ceithir cuthagan, trì cearcan-fraoich, dà chalman,
agus smeòrach le ceileireadh binn.

Air a’chòigeamh là den Nollaig, chuir m’eudail thugam fhìn,
còig cailleachan-oidhch’, ceithir cuthagan, trì cearcan-fraoich, dà chalman agus smeòrach le ceileireadh binn.

Air an t-siathamh là den Nollaig, chuir m’eudail thugam fhìn,
sia seòid, còig cailleachan-oidhch’, ceithir cuthagan, trì cearcan-fraoich, dà chalman, agus smeòrach le ceileireadh binn.

Air an t-seachdamh là den Nollaig, chuir m’eudail thugam fhìn,
seachd mnathan uasal, sia seòid, còig cailleachan-oidhch’,
ceithir cuthagan, trì cearcan-fraoich, dà chalman,
agus smeòrach le ceileireadh binn.

Air an ochdamh là den Nollaig, chuir m’eudail thugam fhìn,
ochd òigearan uallach, seachd mnathan uasal, sia seòid,
còig cailleachan-oidhch’, ceithir cuthagan, trì cearcan-fraoich,
dà chalman, agus smeòrach le ceileireadh binn.

Air an naoidheamh là den Nollaig, chuir m’eudail thugam fhìn,
naoi neamhain luachmhor, ochd òigearan uallach, seachd mnathan uasal, sia seòid, còig cailleachan-oidhch’, ceithir cuthagan,
trì cearcan-fraoich, dà chalman, agus smeòrach le ceileireadh binn.

Air an deicheamh là den Nollaig, chuir m’eudail thugam fhìn,
deich deochan sùghmhor, naoi neamhain luachmhor,
ochd òigearan uallach, seachd mnathan uasal, sia seòid,
còig cailleachan-oidhch’, ceithir cuthagan, trì cearcan-fraoich,
dà chalman agus smeòrach le ceileireadh binn.

Air an aona là deug den Nollaig, chuir m’eudail thugam fhìn,
aon deug a’seinn ciùil dhomh, deich deochan sùghmhor,
naoi neamhain luachmhor, ochd òigearan uallach, seachd mnathan uasal, sia seòid, còig cailleachan-oidhch’, ceithir cuthagan,
trì cearcan-fraoich, dà chalman, agus smeòrach le ceileireadh binn.

Air an dàrna là deug den Nollaig, chuir m’eudail thugam fhìn,
cairt làn de phògan agus dusan ròsan, aon deug a’seinn ciùil dhomh, deich deochan sùghmhor, naoi neamhain luachmhor,
ochd òigearan uallach, seachd mnathan uasal, sia seòid,
còig cailleachan-oidhch’, ceithir cuthagan, trì cearcan-fraoich,
dà chalman, agus smeòrach le ceileireadh binn.

On the first day of Christmas my loved one sent to me,
a thrush with songs so sweet.

On the second day of Christmas my loved one sent to me,
two turtledoves and a thrush with songs so sweet.

On the third day of Christmas my loved one sent to me,
three moorhens, two turtledoves, and a thrush with songs so sweet.

On the fourth day of Christmas my loved one sent to me,
four cuckoos, three moorhens, two turtledoves,
and a thrush with songs so sweet.

On the fifth day of Christmas my loved one sent to me,
five wise owls, four cuckoos, three moorhens, two turtledoves, and a thrush with songs so sweet.

On the sixth day of Christmas my loved one sent to me,
six handsome heroes, five wise owls, four cuckoos, three moorhens, two turtledoves, and a thrush with songs so sweet.

On the seventh day of Christmas my loved one sent to me
seven noble ladies, six handsome heroes, five wise owls,
four cuckoos, three moorhens, two turtledoves,
and a thrush with songs so sweet.

On the eighth day of Christmas my loved one sent to me,
eight comely lads, seven noble ladies, six handsome heroes,
five wise owls, four cuckoos, three moorhens,
two turtledoves, and a thrush with songs so sweet.

On the ninth day of Christmas my loved one sent to me,
nine precious pearls, eight comely lads, seven noble ladies,
six handsome heroes, five wise owls, four cuckoos,
three moorhens, two turtledoves, and a thrush with songs so sweet.

On the tenth day of Christmas my loved one sent to me,
ten juicy drinks, nine precious pearls,
eight comely lads, seven noble ladies, six handsome heroes,
five wise owls, four cuckoos, three moorhens,
two turtledoves and a thrush with songs so sweet.

On the eleventh day of Christmas my loved one sent to me,
eleven people singing, ten juicy drinks,
nine precious pearls, eight comely lads, seven noble ladies,
six handsome heroes, five wise owls, four cuckoos,
three moorhens, two turtledoves, and a thrush with songs so sweet.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my loved one sent to me,
a card full of kisses, twelve red roses, eleven people singing,
ten juicy drinks, nine precious pearls,
eight comely lads, seven noble ladies, six handsome heroes,
five wise owls, four cuckoos, three moorhens,
two turtledoves, and a thrush with songs so sweet.

and a New Year's song:

Òran na Bliadhna Ùire

Sèist:
Ò, gur toigh leam, è gur toigh leam,
Ò, gur toigh leam fios o m’chàirdean;
‘s mòr an toileachadh dha m’inntinn,
a bhi cluinntinn gura slàn iad.

O’n tha bhliadhna so aig deireadh,
‘s Bliadhn’ Ùr eile nise làimh ruinn;
‘s còir gun sgrìobh mi beagan fhacail
do’n tè dh’altrum mi ’n a phàisde.

Thoir an t-soraidh so thar chuaintean,
gu tìr uaine nam beann àrda,
‘s fàg aig a’ Chladach-a-Tuath e,
ged nach ann a fhuair mi m’àrach.

Àit’ as bòidhche feasgar sàmhraidh,
‘s grian air chùl nam beann a’ teàrnadh;
ach ’s e dh’fhàg mi’n diugh an geall air,
gur ann a tha mo mhàthair.

Chan’eil ceòl an diugh no beadradh,
anns an nead ’s an deachaidh m’àrach;
‘n uair a chaidh na h-eòin air iteig,
thug e misneach o’n am màthair.

Anns an tìm that tighinn ’n a m’chuimhne,
gheibhte cruinn ’s an aon làr sinn;
an diugh fo chìs sinn fad o’r daoine,
‘s fear mo ghaoil ‘n a laighe sàmhach.

New Year Song

Chorus:
O, I am fond of, I am fond of,
O I am fond of hearing about my friends;
great is the satisfaction to my mind,
to hear that they are well.

Since this year is at an end,
and another New Year is now approaching,
it is fitting that I write a few words in praise,
of the woman who nursed me when a child.

Bear this greeting over the oceans,
to the green land of the high peaks,
and leave it at North Shores,
although I was not reared there.

The most beautiful place on a summer’s evening,
as the sun sets behind the bens;
but what has left me today, so much in love with it,
is the fact that my mother lives there.

There is no music or merriment,
in the nest where I was brought up,
when the birds took to the wing,
their mother lost her courage.

I recall the time when we would be all together,
around the one hearth,
today, we are under subjection far away from our relatives,
and the man of my love lies silent [i.e., in the grave].

_________________
I'm not a native (or entirely fluent) speaker, so be sure to wait for confirmations/corrections, especially for tattoos.


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PostPosted: Fri 13 Dec 2013 7:06 pm 
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Joined: Wed 19 Dec 2012 3:58 pm
Posts: 468
A wee correction to Silent Night way up at the top:

The word "ciùin" isn't best translated as "silent" in English -- it's clearly been chosen on grounds of the German original. There's a second translation in English too, that goes "still the night"... "silent" was a more distant translation, but just sounded better, so it's the one that gained traction.

Gaelic doesn't have any words that have a core meaning of "quiet" -- all quietness comes as a result of stillness and calmness, so both "sàmhach" and "ciùin" actually mean calm. But as I understand it, "sàmhach" is used with people (thence incidentally for things like a restful sleep) and "ciùin" is used with inanimate things (seas, wind-free evenings etc).

_________________
A language belongs to its native speakers, and when you speak it, you are a guest in their homes.
If you are not a good guest, you have no right to complain about receiving poor hospitality.


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