Scottish Gaelic Music - Julie Fowlis - Oran Fir Heisgeir (Gura Mis' Tha Fo Mhighean)

Thread: Scottish Gaelic Music - Julie Fowlis - Oran Fir Heisgeir (Gura Mis' Tha Fo Mhighean)

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  1. feuersteve's Avatar

    feuersteve said:

    Default Scottish Gaelic Music - Julie Fowlis - Oran Fir Heisgeir (Gura Mis' Tha Fo Mhighean)

    Enjoy!.



    Gaelic

    Gura mis’ tha fo mhìghean,
    ’S mi leam fhìn air a’ chnoc,
    Fada, fada, bho m’ chàirdean,
    Ann an àite ri port;

    Gus am facas do bhàta,
    Le siùil àrda ri dos,
    Tigh’nn a-steach chun na h-Àirde’
    S mac an àrmainn air stoc.

    Mac an àrmainn air stiùir,
    A tigh’nn a dh’ ionnsaidh an Troit;
    Gu bheil an caolas a’ beucadh,
    ’S muir ag èirigh mu slait;

    Tha do làmh-sa cho gleusta,
    ’S nach do thrèig ise neart;
    Ged a thigeadh muir dubh-ghorm,
    Chuireadh sgùradh a-steach.

    ’S ged bhiodh cìosnachadh mar’ ann,
    ’Bhuileadh barraibh a crann,
    ’Chuireadh dh’ ionnsaigh a slat i,
    ’S luaithe h-astar na long;

    Bhiodh i aigeannach, aotrom,
    ’G èirigh eadar gach gleann,
    ’S muir a’ bualadh mu darach,
    ’Fuasgladh reangan is lann.

    Bu tu sgiobair na fairge,
    Bu tu fear falmadair grinn,
    Gur tu b’ urrainn a stiùireadh,
    ’Nuair a dhiùltadh iad i;

    Ged a bheireadh iad thairis,
    ’S iad na laighe ’s an tuim,
    Chumadh tusa i cho gàireach,
    Gus an tàrradh i tìr.

    Chan eil aon rubha cladaich,
    Eadar seo ’s a Chaoir-dhearg,
    Eadar Lìte ’s gach cala,
    ’N dèanta fantainn neo falbh;

    Chan eil maighstir soithich,
    Chuala feothas do làimh,
    Nach bi faighneachd,’s a feòrach’,
    Càite faighte do bhàt’.

    Iùbhrach àlainn, ’s i fallainn,
    ’S i ri gabhail a’ chuain,
    I ruith cho dìreach ri saighead,
    ’S gaoth na h-aghaidh gu cruaidh;

    Ged bhiodh stoirm chlacha’-meallain
    Ann, ’s an cathadh a tuath,
    Nì Fear Heisgeir a gabhail
    Làmh nach athadh ro ’n stuaigh.

    Tha Fear Heisgeir a’ tighinn;
    Bu tu ceann-uidhe nan ceud,
    Bu tu ceann-uidhe na cuideachd,
    ’S cha bu sgrubaire crìon;

    ’N àm ruighinn do bhaile,
    Seal mu ’n cromadh a’ ghrian;
    Bu tu mac an deagh athair,
    Bha gu mathasach riamh.
    

    English

    I am melancholy
    Alone on the hillock
    Far, far from my relations
    Stranded in this place.
    Till your ship was seen,
    Full sailed
    Coming in to the Aird
    Son of the hero on the grunwhale.

    Son of the hero at the helm
    Coming towards the Troit
    The waters of the straits are roaring
    The sea rising around her yards;
    Your hand is so skilled,
    She did not lose her strength
    Though the black blue sea
    Would scour over her.

    Though the seas were overpowering
    and tested the top of the mast
    And the sail yards
    Increasing the speed of the ship;
    She would be spirited, light,
    Rising between each glen
    Sea crashing her oak timbers
    Opening ribs and scales.

    You were the sea skipper
    You were the elegant helmsman
    You were the one who could steer
    When the rest refused;
    Though they were overcome
    Lying down in the bilge water
    You would keep her laughing
    Till she reached land.

    There's not a coastal point
    Between her and a'Chaoird-dhearg
    Between Leith and each harbour
    From which they anchored or sailed;
    There isn't a ship's master
    Who heard of your expertise
    Who isn't asking and enquiring
    Where your ship is to be found.

    Beautiful sound ship,
    Taking on the seas
    Sailing straight as an arrow
    Despite strong headwinds
    Though there was a hailstorm
    And snow from the north
    Fear Heisgeir will take it on
    And never falter in the face
    of rough seas.

    Fear Heisgeir is coming;
    You are the destination of hundreds
    You are the destination of
    thecompany
    Not a withered *****rd;
    On reaching your homestead
    A while before sunset
    You are the son of the good father
    Who was always benevolent.
    Last edited by feuersteve; 02-21-2016 at 09:45 PM.
    Gott zur Ehr, dem nächsten zur Wehr

    What if they gave a fire and nobody came.