Leabaidh Dhiarmaid is Gràinne
Fon chàrn, ghabh iad air falbh
gus an tug iad a-mach cliathach Beinn Ghulbain
ri marbh na h-oidhche.
Rinn iad iad fhèin a shìneadh
air an druim-dìreach air lom na lice
mar gum biodh iad a’ dol fon sgithinn.
An uair sin, às dèidh dhaibh an gnothach
a dhèanamh, ’s ann a theirg iad às
(mas fhìor don t-seanchas).
Thàinig mi fhìn oirre gun fhiosta
’s an treud a’ cnàmh air a h-àrainn.
Bidh iad ga cleachdadh fhathast
aon turas an comhair na bliadhna
Didòmhnaich mar làrach-ìobairt,
fhathast ’na seasamh air chumadh
doras eadar dhà dharach
agus, air snaidheadh air gach taobh,
samhla naomh air choreigin.
Translations of this Poem
The Bed of Diarmad and Grainne
Translator: Kathleen Jamie
I happened upon it by chance
as the flock grazed
high on Ben Bulben…
To think the old story was true!
—that by dead of night they’d cut and run,
scaled the sharp ridge, stripped
this stone bare as a mortuary slab,
laid themselves down…
and after their efforts, slept.
Fancy it still being up here—
ready for Sundays,
lying like a door between
twin oaks, each notched
with some sort of holy insignia.
