Skridoù-sonerezh keltiek digoust
| Sonaozour | Antoine Ó Raifteiri (war-dro 1828) |
| Oberour | Antoine Ó Raifteiri |
| Kempennadur | Antoine Ó Raifteiri ha David@Roazhon |
| Treuzskrivadur | David@Roazhon |
| Orin | |
| Rummad | Complainte |
| Benvegoù | Low whistle |
| Tonegezh | Mi minor |
| Lusk | 3/4 |
| Niver a bellgargañ | 22612 |
| Aotre-implijout | Creative Commons BY-SA |
| Furmad | Pellgargañ | Ment |
|---|---|---|
| Eanach_Dhúin.pdf | 584.52 Kio | |
| jpg | Eanach_Dhúin.jpg | 185.56 Kio |
| midi | Eanach_Dhúin.mid | 959 oktedoù |
| MP3 | Eanach_Dhúin.mp3 | 1.47 Mio |
| ogg | Eanach_Dhúin.ogg | 1.23 Mio |
| txt | Eanach_Dhúin.txt | 1.76 Kio |

_________________________________________________
Eanach Dhúin
_________________________________________________
Má fhaighimse sláinte is fada bheidh trácht
Ar an méid a bádh as Eanach Dhúin.
'S mo thrua 'márach gach athair 's máthair
Bean is páiste 'tá á sileadh súl!
A Rí na nGrást a cheap neamh is párthas,
Nar bheag an tábhacht dúinn beirt no triúr,
Ach lá chomh breá leis gan gaoth ná báisteach
Lán a bháid acu scuab ar shiúl.
Nár mhór an t-íonadh ós comhair na ndaoine
Á bhfeicáil sínte ar chúl a gcinn,
Screadadh 'gus caoineadh a scanródh daoine,
Gruaig á cíoradh 's an chreach á roinnt.
Bhí buachaillí óg ann tíocht an fhómhair,
Á síneadh chrochar, is a dtabhairt go cill.
'S gurb é gléas a bpósta a bhí dá dtoramh
'S a Rí na Glóire nár mhór an feall.
_________________________________________________
Traduction anglaise
_________________________________________________
If my health is spared I'll be long relating
Of that boat that sailed out of Anach Cuain.
And the keening after of mother and father
And child by the harbour, the mournful croon!
King of Graces, who died to save us,
T'were a small affair but for one or two,
But a boat-load bravely in calm day sailing
Without storm or rain to be swept to doom.
What wild despair was on all the faces
To see them there in the light of day,
In every place there was lamentation,
And tearing of hair as the wreck was shared.
And boys there lying when crops were ripening,
From the strength of life they were borne to clay
In their wedding clothes for their wake they robed them
O King of Glory, man's hope is in vain.
Ar skridou muzik zo var ar sit-mañ ’peus moaien pellkargañ evid netra ; koulskoude, an toniou ha ne teuont ket deuz ar bobl a hell bea dindan gwirioù-eilañ.
Ma kav deoh zo eur skridoù-sonerezh ha n’eo ket ba e leh war al lec’hienn-mañ, skrivet din ha me a lamo aneañ dioustu.