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IONNLAIDH mi m’ aodann ’S na naoi gatha greine, Mar a dh’ ionnlaid Moir a Mac, Am bainne bragh na breine.
Mil a bhi ’na m’ bheul, Seirc a bhi ’na m’ aodann; An gaol thug Moire dha Mac Bhi an cridhe gach cairc domhsa.
Gum bu suileach, cluasach, briathrach Dia, Da m’ riarachadh, is da m’ neartachadh; Gum bu dall, bodhar, balbh, sion sior, Mo luchd tair is mo luchd taimhlis.
Teanga Chalum-chille ’na mo cheann, Agall Chalum-chille ’na mo chainn; Foisneachd Mhic bhuadhaich nan gras Dhol thugam-sa an lathair sluaigh. |
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I BATHE my face In the nine rays of the sun, As Mary bathed her Son In the rich fermented milk.
Honey be in my mouth, Affection be in my face; The love that Mary gave her Son Be in the heart of all flesh for me.
All-seeing, all-hearing, all-inspiring may God be, To satisfy and to strengthen me; Blind, deaf, and dumb, ever, ever be My contemners and my mockers,
The tongue of Columba in my head, The eloquence of Columba in my speech; The composure of the Victorious Son of grace Be mine in presence of the multitude. |