Maidion sul smaoin Titan a ċosa do luaḋaill
Air ṁullaċ ċnuic aoird aoiḃinn do lodamar suas;
Tarrastar linn sgaoṫ ḃruinnġiol soilḃir suairc
Garraḋ ḃí a Siḋ Seanaiḃ solas-ḃruig ṫuaiḋ.
Fearastar sgím draoiḋeaċta nár ḋorca snuaḋ,
O Ġailliṁ na líog lí-ġeal go Corcaig na g-cuan,
Barra gaċ crainn ṡíor-ċuireas toraḋ agus cnuas,
Meas daire air gaċ coill, fír-ṁil air ċloċaiḃ go buan.
Lasaid sin trí coinnle go solas naċ luaiḋim
Air ṁullaċ Ċnuic aoird Ḟírinne Conallaiġ ruaiḋ,
Leanas tar tuinn sgaoṫ na m-ban g-coċaill go Tuaṁuin,
Is faċtaim-se ḋíoḃ díograis a n-oifige air cuaird.
D’ḟreagair an Ḃriġid Aoiḃill, nár ḋorċa snuaḋ,
Faċain na d-trí g-coinnle do lasaḋ air gaċ cuan,
A n-ainm an ríġ díograis ḃeas aguinn go luaṫ.
A g-ceannas na d-trí ríogaċta, is da g-cosnaṁ go buan.
As m’aisling do ṡlím-ḃíoḋgas go h-aṫċumair suas,
Is do ṁeasas gur ḃ-fíor d’Aoiḃill gaċ sonas dár luaiḋ;
Is aṁlaiḋ ḃíos tím créaċtaċ, doilḃir, duairc,
Maidion sul smaoin Titan a ċosa do luaḋaill.
One morning, ere yet Titan thought of stirring his feet,
I went up to the summit of a high pleasant hill,
I met a band of charming, playful maidens—
A host who dwelt in Sidh Seanaibh of the bright mansion in the north.
A magic prosperity of hue not dark spread itself around,
From Galway, of the bright coloured stones, to Cork of the harbours;
The top of every tree ever bears fruit and produce;
In every wood are acorns, and sweet honey continually on stones.
They light three candles with a blaze I cannot describe
On the top of high Cnoc Firinne in Red Conollo;
I followed the band of hooded women over the waves to Thomond,
And ask the secret of the function they were performing in their rounds.
The maiden Aoibhill, not dark of aspect, gave in reply
The reason for lighting the three candles over every harbour;
In the name of the king for whom we yearn, and who will soon be with us
Ruling the three kingdoms and defending them long.
I started up from my reverie without delay,
And I fancied that Aoibhill had spoken truth in all she had said;
The way with me was that I felt weak, oppressed, sad, and troubled
One morning ere yet Titan thought of stirring his feet.