Colmáin: English Translation (Leaving Cert Irish): Revision Notes
Colmáin: English Translation
Le Cathal Ó Searcaigh
i gcead do Sigurdur Pálsson
An cat úd ar an seachtú hurlár de theach
ard cathrach, shíl sé ansiúd ina áras spéire
gur colmán a bhí ann ó dhúchas.
Ó saolaiodh é ba é an seachtú hurlár –
crochta ansiúd idir an saol is an tsíoraíocht –
a bhaile agus a bhuanchónaí.
Ní fhaca sé a mhacasamhail féin ariamh,
cat dá dhéanamh, dá dath, dá dhreach.
Ní fhaca sé ach daoine agus colmáin ar an aoirdeacht.
Shíl sé ar dtús gur duine a bhí ann,
gur ionann dó ina dhóigh agus ina chosúlacht
leo siúd ar dhá chois a bhí ina thimpeall.
Chuirfeadh sé naipcín fána bhráid
agus shuíodh sé ag an mbord go béasach
le greim bídh a ithe le lánúin óg an tí.
Ní raibh de thoradh air sin ach scread eitigh.
Thógfáí ar shiúl é láithreach
agus dhéanfai prácás bídh as canna stáin
a shá go míbhéasach faoi na shoc.
Is minic a shuíodh sé ina aonar
ar leac na fuinneoige, ag féachaint
ar na colmáin nach dtiocfadh ina láthair.
Amanta theastaigh uaidh téaltú chucu
go ciúin, súgradh leo go binn;
a chrúb a chur iontu ar son grinn.
Ar na laethe úd a mhothaíodh sé dáimh as an ggnáth leis na colmáin, bhíodh iontas an domhain air
nach ndéanfadh siad cuideachta leis i dtráth ná in antráth.
Sa deireadh, lá buí Bealtaine le luí gréine,
chinn sé léim an cholmáin a thabhairt ó leac na fuinneoige leis na heiteoga a bhí in easbaidh air...faraoir.
An lá a cuireadh i dtalamh é i bpaiste créafóige
sa chúlchlós, a chorp beag ina phraiseach,
bhí colmáin ag cuachaireacht ó gach leac fuinneoige.
By Cathal Ó Searcaigh
To Sigurdur Pálsson
That cat upon the seventh floor
of a tall city building, thought
his sky-high flat was home to pigeons born.
From birth, the seventh floor—
suspended there between life and forever—
became his place, his lasting home.
He never saw another like himself,
no cat of his own colour, shape, or kind.
He saw but people and the pigeons high above.
At first, he thought he was a man,
like them in manner and in form,
those on two feet who walked around.
He'd fold a napkin on his lap,
sit kindly at the table's edge,
to share a meal with the young couple there.
But all he earned was shrieks and startled flights.
They'd whisk him swiftly from the room,
then toss him scraps from a tin can,
speaking harshly of the rules he broke.
Oftentimes he sat alone
upon the window ledge, and watched
the pigeons who would never come near.
Sometimes he longed to play with them in silence,
to tease them softly, sweet and light,
to tap their claws in gentle fun.
In those days when he felt a kinship grow,
he marvelled deeply that they would not
keep him company at any time.
At last, on a golden May day,
as sunlight waned and shadows stretched,
he chose to leap after the missing pigeons... alas.
The day they laid him in a clay pot
in the backyard, his small form tangled,
pigeons cooed from every window ledge.