Dijeridiú: English Translation (Leaving Cert Irish): Revision Notes

Didjeridu: English Translation

Le Louis de Paor

Ní mheallfaidh an ceol seo

nathair nimhe aníos

as íochtar ciseáin do bhoilg

le brothall seanma

na mbruthfhonn teochreasach.

Ní chuirfidh sé do chois cheannairceach

ag steiprince ar leac

gan buíochas ded aigne cheartaiseach

le spreang tais na gcasphort ceathach.

Má sheasann tú gan chor

ar feadh soicind amháin

nó míle bliain,

cuirifidh sé ealta liréan

ag neadú i measc na gcuach

id chlaonfholt cam,

gorma

pearóidí

glasa

dearga

ar do ghuaillí loiscthe

is cucabora niogóideach

ag fonóid féd chosa geala.

Beidh treibheanna ársa an aeir

ag cleitearnach timpeall ort,

ag labhairt leat i mbéalrá

ná tuigeann do chroí

gallghaelach bán.

Má sheasann tú

dhá chéad bliain ag éisteacht,

closifir ceolstair a chine

ag sileadh as ionathar pollta,

géarghoba éan

ag cnagadh plaosc,

ag snapadh mionchnámh,

agus doirne geala

ár sinsear cneasta

ag bualadh chraiceann na talún

mar a bheadh bodhrán

ná mothaíonn

faic.

By Louis de Paor

This music will not lure a venomous snake up from the bottom of a basket's belly with the flickering old magic of sultry steamy airs.

It will not make your foot step forwards on a slab without the thanks of a righteous mind with the damp strings of a four-stringed harp.

If you stand still for one second or a thousand years,

a flock of swallows will settle nesting among the cuckoos in a crooked, slanted, blue, pear-shaped, green, red on your burnt shoulders and noisy cucabura perching on your white feet.

Ancient tribes of the air will flutter around you, speaking in a language your white foreign heart does not understand.

If you stand listening for two hundred years,

you will hear the music of a race pouring from a broken chest,

a sharp-beaked bird knocking shells, snapping small bones,

and the white fists of our gentle ancestors beating the skin of the earth as if it were a bodhrán,

but you will not feel a thing.