Fuadach nan Gàidheal
Henry Whyte, aka FionnTraduzione inglese che Mudcat Café attribuisce allo stesso autore. | |
FUADACH NAN GÀIDHEAL | THE DISPERSION OF THE HIGHLANDERS |
Gur e mise tha tùrsach, A' caoidh cor na dùthcha, 'S nan seann daoine cùiseil Bha cliùiteach is treun; Rinn uachdarain am fuadach Gu fada null thar chuantan, Am fearann ga thoirt bhuapa 'S thoirt suas dha na fèidh. | I mourn for the Highlands, Now drear and forsaken; The land of my fathers, The gallant and brave; To make room for the sportsman Their lands were all taken, And they had to seek out New homes over the wave. |
'S e sud a' chulaidh-nàire, Bhith faicinn dhaoine làidir Gam fuadach thar sàile Mar bhàrrlach gun fheum. 'S am fonn a bha àlainn Chaidh chur fo chaoraich bhàna; Tha feanntagach 's a' ghàradh, 'S an làrach fo fheur. | Where once smiled the garden, Rank weeds have their station. And deer are preferred To a leal-hearted race. Oh, shame on the tyrants Who brought desolation, Who banished the brave And put sheep in their place. |
Far an robh mòran dhaoine Le 'm mnathan is le'n teaghlaich, Chan eil ach caoraich-mhaola Ri fhaotainn 'n an àit'; Chan fhaicear air a' bhuailidh A' bhanarach le buaraich No idir an crodh guaillfhionn 'S am buachaile bàn. | Oh ! where are the parents And bairns yonder roaming The scene of their gladness Is far o'er the main ; No blithe-hearted milk-maid Now cheers us at gloaming ; The herd-boy no longer Is seen on the plain. |
Tha 'n uiseag anns na speuran A' seinn a luinneig ghleusda, 'S gun neach a tha ga h-èisteachd, Nuair dh'èireas i àrd. Cha till, cha till na daoine, Bha cridheil agus aoigheil, Mar mholl air latha gaoithe, Chaidh 'n sgaoileadh gu bràth. | The lark is still soaring, and sings in his glory, With no one to listen His sweet morning lay; The clansmen are gone-- But their deeds live in story-- Like chaff in the wind, they were borne far away. |