Am Buachaile Ban – Capercaillie – letras

Och, ochan a Righ gura timn an galair an gradh!Chan eil neach air am bi nach saoil gura seach dainn gach la,Gunn bhrist e mo chridh ‘s gun sgaoil e cuislean mo shlaintBhith ‘g amharc ad dheidh, a gheng a’ bhrollaich ghil bhdin – ghil bhdin.A Bhuachaille Bhain, ma ‘s aill leat labhairt air thuisGura loatsa gun dail, mo lamh, ma thig thu rimm dluth:Gur truagh mar ta nach d’tharlaidh mis’ agus thuAn eilein gum traigh, gun ramh, gun choite, gun stinir – gun stinir.Na faiccadh sibh geng, ‘s i ‘g eirigh maduinn chiuin cheo.Le pearsa dha reiri iu candan mhenlladh ‘nan doigh:Gur binne do bhen, na reudan thidheall ri ceol,’Snach truagh leat mi ‘d dheidh leam fhein air cnoam ri bron – ri bron.The Fair ShepherdAlas and alack, what a deadly sickness is love!There is none who suffers it but feels every day is a week.It has broken my heart and sapped the springs of my healthTo keep gazing after you, young of the fair white bosom.Fair-haired lad, if you but care to speak first,My hand shall be yours without delay if you come for me:Play it is true, you and I did not find ourselvesOn an island with no ebb, with no oar, no boat, no rudder.If you could see such a shoot springing up on a calm, misty morning,With looks to go with it fit to win the hearts of thousands:Sweeter is your voice than the strings of violins playing,Can you not take pity on me, ? alone without you, lamenting on a knoll?