Ochoin a ri, 'si mo rhibhin donn,

Dh 'fhag mi fo mhi-ghean 'us m'inntinn trom!

Gur e a boichead a rinn mo leonadh,

'S cha bhi bed gun mo rhibhin donn.



Is truagh an drasda nach robh mi 'm bhard

A ghleusadh clarsach 's a sheinneadh dan

'S gu 'n innsinn buadhan

Na maighdinn nasail,

Mu' bheil mo smuaintean gach oidhehe 's la.



Gur boidheach, dualach an cuailcan min

A th'air a'ghruagaich a bhuair mo chridh',

Gur binne comhradh

Na guth na smeoraich;

'S tha mise bronach o'n dh'thag i mu.



Ged tha mo ghrian-sa a'triall fo sgleo,

Ils mise 'm bhadhna mar ian 'sa deo.

Togaidh 'n sgaile

'S ni ise dearrsadh

'S gu 'm faigh mi slainte gach la ri 'm bheo.



The Brown Haired Maiden



Alas and woe is me, my brown haired maiden

The cause of my discontent and my heavy heart!

It is her beauty which has left me grieving

And I cannot survive without her.





Would that I were a bard

Who could tune a harp and sing a song

So that I might extol the virtues

Of that gentle maiden

Who feels my thoughts both night and day.



Beautiful and luxuriant is the delicate hair

Of the maiden who has wounded my heart;

Her conversation is sweeter

Than the singing of the thrush

And I am filled with sorrow since she left me.



When the month of May comes to the heathery glen

And all the plants of the meadow into full bloom

It reminds me of my loved one,

The comely little flower which grew so tenderly.