An Ghaeilge A stirring and long-forgotten poem by Roger Casement

An Ghaeilge

A stirring and long-forgotten poem by Roger Casement, newly translated into Irish by Gabriel Rosenstock

The Irish language It is gone from the hill and the glen— The strong speech of our sires; It is sunk in the mire and the fen Of our nameless desires: We have bartered the speech of the Gael For a tongue that would pay, And we stand with the lips of us pale And all bloodless today; We have bartered the birthright of men That our sons should be liars. It is gone from the hill and the glen The strong speech of our sires. Like the flicker of gold on the whin That the Spring breath unites, It is deep in our hearts and shall win Into flame where it smites: It is there with the blood in our veins, With the stream in the glen, With the hill and the heath and the weans They shall think it again; It shall surge to their lips and shall win The high road to our rights— Like the flicker of gold on the whin That the sun-burst unites.

An teanga Ghaeilge Do thréig sí an cnoc is an gleann teanga thréan na sean; Sa láib di seachas ar an mbeann— is balbh é ár ngean: Do dhíolamar teanga na nGael ar scilling gheal an Rí, Nach mílítheach é ár mbéal— is ár mbeola ar easpa brí; Do dhíolamar ár ndúchas is ár ngreann— an chonair cham do lean. Do thréig sí an cnoc is an gleann teanga thréan na sean. Mar ór ar an aiteann faoi bhláth san Earrach mar aon bhladhm amháin Go domhain inár gcroíthe atá— lasair an bhua gan cháim: Sa ghleann ina ritheann sruthán sa smior is sa smúsach, sa chroí, In intinn bhíogúil an ógáin tabharfar beocht do na seansiollaí A fhógróidh ár gcearta don lá in aon gheal-ghaisce amháin: Mar ór ar an aiteann faoi bhláth faoin ngal gréine gan cháim.