| Versione gaelica dal sito ufficiale di Mickey MacConnel |
ONLY OUR RIVERS RUN FREE | NÍL ACH ÁR ABHAINEACHA SAOR |
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When apples still grow in November, | Má bhíonn úllaí ag apú faoi Shamhain |
When Blossoms still bloom from each tree, | Is bláthaíonní geal ar gach craobh |
When leaves are still green in December, | Is duilleogaí glas ann faoi Nollaig |
It's then that our land will be free, | Is ansin a bheig Saoirse sa tír |
I wander her hills and her valleys, | Ag siúl dom trí shléibhte is gleannta |
And still through my sorrow I see, | Trí mo shúile croíbhriste-se, chím |
A land that has never known freedom, | Náisiún faoi sheilbh ‘s faoi dhaoirse |
And only her rivers run free | Ach níl ach ár abhaineacha saor. |
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I drink to the death of her manhood, | Seo sláinte na bhfear úd a d’éirigh |
Those men who'd rather they died, | In aghaidh éileamh éagórach an dlí, |
Than to live in the cold chains of bondage, | A fuair bás cuartú cúiteamh a gcearta |
When to bring back their rights were denied, | Is le daorsmacht an drochrud a chloí. |
Oh where are you now when we need you, | Anois, nuair tá gá libh, cá bhfuil sibh? |
What burns where the flame used to be, | Cá bhfuil an tine tréan fíor? |
Are you gone like the snows of last winter, | Bhfuil sé caillte mar sneachta an gheimhridh? |
And will only our rivers run free? | Is nach bhfuil ach ár abhaineacha saor? |
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How sweet is life but we're crying, | Nach suáilceach an saol is muid ag caoineadh |
How mellow the wine but it's dry, | Is muid tur, cé gur flúirseach an fíon. |
How fragrant the rose but it's dying, | Nach cumhra an rós is í ag feochadh? |
How gentle the breeze but it sighs, | Is tá binneas sa ghaoth leis an tsíon. |
What good is in youth when it's aging, | Cén mhaith ‘tá san óige ‘s í ag aoiseach? |
What joy is in eyes that can't see, | Cén t-aoibhneas ‘tá i súile dall caoch? |
When there's sorrow in sunshine and flowers, | Níl aon lúchair i loinnir na gréine |
And still only our rivers run free | Nuair nach bhfuil ach ár abhaineacha soar |