Gaol
They played on harps of gold,
Their voices shimmered like ice in the stream,
And a bell rang to bring in the winter.
The torches shone, their smoke like fog,
And Brennan doran left again for the road.
Chan eil tuil air nach tig traoghadh,
And out of the night comes the day,
And Isobel brèagha drove her sheep passed the fires.
He’s wandering now, a long way from her,
But he’s always where the wind is blowing,
And he can hear her in the breeze.
The hearth fire blazed with gold,
And it cracked and broke and smelt of summer,
The wood-smoke a balm; a sharp, bitter scent,
The frost etched clear-edged on the window,
And Brennan doran longed again for the sea.
Is minig a bha an fhirinn searbh ri h-innse,
And every rage will pass,
And Isobel brèagha slept warm through the winter.
He’s wandering now, a long way from her,
But he’s always where the wind is blowing,
And he can hear her in the breeze.
They said no greetings to him.
Spring brought the blossoms but forgot his smile
And his footsteps left no print by the stream.
The summer gilded her doorframe
And Brennan doran did not pass beneath it.
Tha gaol agam ort, tha gaol agam ort,
And the fullest heart is free,
And Isobel brèagha watched the full moon.
Shaoil leis gum bu leis fhein an cuan fo gheasaibh,
He thought himself always free.
Now Brennan doran serves the ocean well
And Isobel brèagha had a smile for her son.
All Works are © Original Author
(OC Author - Gillian Smart)