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Shaun Davey feat. Iarla O'Lionaird - The Pilgrim

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Uploaded by on Jan 16, 2011

Track 4 from Shaun Davey's work "The Pilgrim" (1983).

Music by Shaun Davey.
Vocals : Iarla O'Lionaird.
Uillean-pipes : Liam O'Flynn.

The words, taken from a translation by Kuno Meyer of an Irish 10th century poem, recall the thoughts of monk who prepares for a sea pilgrimage in the service of Christ.


LYRICS


In regsa, a Rí inna rún
Íar coimse clúm ocus céol,
Mo brogad for a mara múr
Mo chúl do thochar frim éol ?

In mbia i mbochtai isin chath
Tre rath in Ríg, rí cen meth,
Cen míad mór, cen charpat cloth,
Cen ór cen argat cen ech ?

Cen ól medrach mesetha druing,
Cen túaith truim, cen teglach torm,
Cen brasscíath, cen aile n-arm,
Cen chúach, cen chuirm is cen chorn ?

Cen éitiud mín mass ar súil,
Cen chlúim nád cara nach naíb,
Acht barrán beithe fo búaid
Fo chuilche chráuid frim dá thaíb ?

In timgér celebrad coir
D'innsi móir mace Míled múaid ?
Indom tairbear fo Chríst cuing
Ria techt tar tuinn Mara Ruaid ?

In tiurr mo láim do cach crécht
For brú tuinne tinnbi bárc ?
In fuicéb oc mara múr
Slicht mo da glún isin trácht ?

In toicéb mo churchán cíar
Ós oicén uchtlethan án ?
In reg, a Rí ríchid réil
As mo thoil féin for in sál ?

Imba sessach, imba seng,
Imba tressach tuirme glonn,
A Chríst, in cuingéna frimm,
Ó thí co techt tar linn lonn ?


ENGLISH TRANSLATION :

Shall I go, O King of the Mysteries,
after my fill of cushions and music,
to turn my face on the shore and my back on my native land ?

Shall I be in poverty in the battle through the grave of the King,
A King who does not fail,
Without great honour or a famous chariot,
Without silver and without a horse.

Without heady drink that intoxicates a throng,
Without a stout tribe,without retainers to protect me,
Without a swift shield or any weapon, without cup, ale or drinking-horn ?

Without soft clothes that are pleasant to look at,
Without cushions which are no friend of any saint,
But beech-twigs of virtue under a hard quilt for my body ?

Shall I say a long farewell to the great island of the sons of proud Mil ?
Shall I offer myself under Christ's yoke before I cross the waters of the Red Sea ?

Shall I cut my hand with every sort of wound on the breast of the wave which wrecks boats ?
Shall I leave the track ofmy two knees on the strand by the shore ?

Shall I take my little black currach over the broad-breasted glorious ocean ?
O King of the bright kingdom, shall I go of my own choice upon the sea ?

Whether I be strong or poor,
Or mettlesome so as to be recounted in tales,
O Christ, will you help me when it comes to going upon the wild sea ?

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