Kings: M

Nicon cotlaim for colcaid
cía bether comm imslánud:
atáid sochaidi i-mmaig
atraig úaim imrádud.

Ní marait ar cornolta,
scarad friu nín lúaidi:
acht mad óinsessior namá
ní mair nech díb, a Gúaire.

Ornait ocus Lugna lán.
Laidgen ocus Ailirán,
(atá cecht urde fri dán,)
Marbán ocus Cliuthnechán.

Ro chluinis mo tiomna-sa
fri úair techta don domun:
mo cúach-sa din díthrebach,
mo chráin do Laidgen lobur.

Mo scían is mo srethuguad,
mo tredab i Túaim Aidchi,
mo lorg, mo crain, mo cúach,
mo tíag lethoir, mo cairchi.

A Marbáin, a díthrubaig,
cid dia timna do chúach?
di don fiur cerda a rath,
acht a brath do Mac Dúach.

Atá úarboth d’am i caill;
nís-fitir acht mo Fhíada:
uinnius di-síu, coll an-all,
bile rátha, nosn-íada.

Dí ersainn fraích fri fulong
ocus fordorus féthe.
Feraid in chaill immá cress
a mess for mucca méthe.

Mét mo boithe – bec nád bec,
baile sétae sognath.
Canaid sian mbinn día beinn
ben a llein co londath.

Lengait doim Droma Rolach
ass sruth róeglan. Fodeirc essi Roigne rúad,
Mucruime múad, Móenmag.

Mennután díamair desruid
día mbí selb sétrois.

Mong celiub ibair éoglais: nósta cél
Caín in magan;
márglas darach
darsin sén

Aball ubull, (mára ratha)
mbruidnech mras;
barr dess dornach
collán cnóbec
cróebach nglas.

Glére thiprat,
essa uisci
(úais do dig)–
bruinnit ilair;
cáera ibair,
fidait, fir.

Foilgit impe
mucca cenntai,
cadlaid, uirc,
mucca alltai,
uiss aird, ellti,
bruicnech, bruic,

Buidnech sídech,
slúag tromm tírech,
dál dom thig;
ina erchaill
tecat cremthainn;
álainn sin!

Caíne fleda
tecat moteg,
tárgud tricc,
uisce idan
barrán bitchai,
bratáin, bricc.

Barrán cáerthainn,
áirni dubai
draigin duinn,
túarai dercna,
cáera lomma
lecna luimm.

Líne ugae,
mil, mess, melle,
(Día dod-roíd),
ubla milsi,
mónainn derca,
dercna froích.

Coirm co lubaib,
loc di subaib,
sílbach sciach,
derca iach,
áirni chnó.

Cuach meda
colláin cunnla
co ndáil daith;
durcháin donna,
dristin monga
mérthain maith.

Mad fri samrad,
suairc snóbrat,
somlas mlas,
curair, orcáin,
foltáin gliase,
glaine glas;

Céola ferán
mbruinne forglan,
forom ndil;
dordán smálcha
caíne gnáthcha
úas mo thig;

Tellin cíarainn,
cerdán cruinne,
cróán séim;
gigrainn, cadain,
gair ré samain,
seinm ngaorb céor.

Caïnciu gestlach,
druí donn desclach,
don chraíb chuill;
cochuill alaid
snaic ar daraig,
aidbli druing.

Tecat caínfinn,
corra faílinn;
fos-cain cúan;
ní céol ndogra
cerca odra
a fráech rúad.

Rescach samaisc
a samrad
(soilsiu séin):
ní serb sáethrach
úas maig máethlach
mellach mín.

Fogur gaíthe
fri fid flescach
forglas néol;
essa aba
esnad ala:
álainn céol.

Caíne ailmi
ardom-peitet,
ní íar n-a creic;
do Chríst, cech than,
ní mesa dam
oldás deit.

Cid maith latsu
a ndo-milsiu,
mó cech maín;
buidech liumsa
do-berr damsa
óm Chríst chaín.

Cen úair n-augrai,
cen deilm ndebtha
immut-foich,
buidech dond Flaith
do-beir cech maith
dam in boith.

Do-bérsa ni rúge ráb
lam chuid comorbsa Calmáin,
a dílse co úair mo báis,
ar beith it gnáis, a Marbáin.

I don’t sleep on a flocked bed,
though it would oblige my health:
you crowd outside
afoot honoring the dead.

Our fosterkin live no more;
unmentioned loss:
except for six of them only,
none live, O Pure One.

Gold and Moon
Snow-Head, too, and Traveling Sun
(he’s the sun fire of knowledge,)
Sea White and Descendant of the Waters.

You have heard my testament
at the time of the House of the Abyss:
my cup from the hermitage,
my sow to Snow-Head leper.

My knife and my management,
my dwelling in the Tomb of Fire,
my cudgel, my sow, my cup,
my leather hut, my music.

O Sea White One of the hermitage,
Why your cup?
Black sister House of the Womb,
but intending to Divine Son of Black.

I have a hut in the wood;
only my Lord knows it:
ash-tree on one side, hazel on the other,
Womb of the Great Tree, Our Father

Two heather doorposts support it;
and a lintel of honeysuckle.
The wood around it sheds its
fruit on my fat swine.

The size of my hut – small yet not small,
reflects prosperity The Path of Light
Blessing song from a goddess
in a blackbird’s cloak.

Oak Ridges’ stags leap
out of the riverbank’s stream . Under the Red Man’s Cataract
from Mucruime, The Plain of Silence.

Spirit gods live at the Red Cataract
living gods possess the Path seed.

Name the yew-wood ever-green: glorious augury!
Clear Water of the plain:
green sea oakwood
inside the ancient

Orchard apples, (sea womb)
hostel fair;
harvest handfuls
small hazel-nuts
green-branched trees.

Shimmering wells,
waterfalls
(perfect brew) –
gushing, welling;
yewberries,
bird-cherry, privet.

Goats
tame pigs,
feed, young pigs;
tall wild cattle,
red deer, does
badger’s brood,

Peaceful companies,
great host of the country,
meet at my house;
toward the forest
come the foxes;
lovely here!

Fine feasts
pigs come,
gathering quickly;
purest water
harvest for guests,
salmon, trout.

Crop from mountain ash,
black sloes
from a dark blackthorn,
red acorns,
naked kernals
of bare slopes.

Bushel of eggs,
honey, acorns, wild licorice,
(God sent it),
sweet apples,
red cranberries,
heather ale.

Feast of strawberries,
good tasting plants,
haws of hawthorn,
yew-berries,
nut-kernals

Hazel flavored
fine mead flagon
quickly poured;
brown oak saplings,
blackberry bushes
with good berries.

Summer comes,
soft, bright mantle,
delicious flavor,
marjoram, cucumber
hair of a stream [watercress],
green crystal glen.

Singing doves
bright beasts,
happy hunt;
thrushes haunting
cry of longing
above my house;

Bees, beetles,
humming of the world,
gentle crooning;
barnacle geese, ganders,
wintor clamors,
music of a dark torrent.

A lively songster
fussy brown wren,
on the hazel bough;
in a piebald hood
the woodpecker on an oak,
in a great crowd.

Fair white fliers
cranes, gulls;
the coast sings to them
no mournful music
of the grey-brown hen
on the red heather.

Cows low
in summer
(lightning storm):
no harm present
above the Pleasant Plain
of Honey.

Voice of the wind
toward the branching wood,
a very gray cloud;
falls in the river
trumpeting swans:
beautiful music.

A beautiful pine
sings to me,
no payment due;
to Christ, the Sun God,
no worse for me
than for you.

Disguise the custom well
to not find the honey,
my many suns;
what you find
giving dances
fear Christ so kind.

Never quarrel,
never clamor
about young sprouts
thank the Goddess Sovereignty
who will bring the good sun
mine tonight.

I will give my splendid kingdom
with my share of Little Dove’s,
in undisputed possession to the hour of my death
for being in your company, O Sea White One