(Translation below)
Amhrán an Iascaire
Ag breacadh na maidine, fáinne geal an lae, canann an cealgaire agus freagraím an glaoch; Tríd an ceobhrán bog íseal, sleamhnaím go ciúin ag spágáil trí thaibhrimh Dhomhain fós faoi shuan.
I mo sheasamh sa tanalacht, réabann an Domhan [leis], an clampar is céasta is cúiseanna chaoineadh agus suamhnaíonn m’intinn le faoiseamh ‘s tuiscint, Níl ann ach mo dhorú is ceol ciúin an uisce.
Mar tá draíocht ag uisce an intinn a chiúnú,
Bánn sé buartha ‘s tugann sé sólás dúinn; Más ‘réabadh nó séimh é, ina shruth nó féithchiúin, d’on Fásach is na hUiscí ragfad go buan.
Ag breacadh na maidine, fáinne geal an lae…
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Song of the Fisherman
At the bright ring of morning, the dawn of the day,
The Siren call stirs me and I slip away,
Through the low-lying mist I glide to the lake,
wading through dreams of a World not awake.
As I stand in the shallows, all the World rushes by,
all the turmoil and torments and reasons to cry.
And my mind slows to silence with the peace all around,
just the swish of my line and the water’s calm sound.
For water has magic to quiet the mind,
it soothes and it settles, leaves all troubles behind.
Whether raging or placid, flowing or still,
to the Wild and the Water, go there I will.
At the bright ring of morning, the dawn of the day…