t h e  g r e a t  b o o k  o f  g a e l i c

a n  l e a b h a r  m Ú r

 


Neach-ealain / Artist: Mick O Kelly
Snas-sgržobhadair / Calligrapher: The Artist
Eadar-theangaichte aig / Translator: Ronald Black
Roghainn / Nominator: Myles Campbell

 

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.*

Carson, a DhŤ a tha sa chathair,

Carson an-diugh a rinn Thu ín latha?

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Mo-nuar gum faca mi a shoillse

Ach a bhith gu brŗth san oidhche.

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Och, mo chrŗdh, mo chrŗdh ís mo lŤireadh,

An latha thug iad uam mo cheud-ghrŗdh.

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Do chorp donn an sin na laighe,

Toll air tholl aí sileadh fala.

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Am fear bÚidheach laigh rim thaobh-sa

An sin ís a mhionach ŗs aí slaodadh.

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Aichbheil, aichbheil, sgrios is lŤireadh

Air an luchd a rinn mo cheusadh.

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Eisd rim ghuidhean, Ržgh nan Dýilean,

Eisd rim athchuinge ís rim ýrnaigh.

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Tha ín luchd bŗn an-diugh lŗn aigheir

íS tha mo phŗistean-sa gun athair.

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Is tha mo bheatha-sa nis falamh -

Ach ceadaich dhomh, mum fŗg mi ín talamh,

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Air mí fhear-cŤile ín sin na shžneadh,

Nuair a thig mo mhic gu žre,

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

An Ťirig dhuinn airson ar dÚrainn,

Latha rŤidh a ghearradh sgÚrnan;

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Ghearradh sgÚrnan nam fear fuileach,

Fuil mum dhÚrnaibh suas gu uilinn,

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

A bhith gan reubadh is gam pianadh

Is deagh fhaobhar air mo sgian-sa.

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Thoir latha dhuinn gu saor aí pŗigheadh

Fhir is mhnathan agus phŗistean

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

An luchd ghil a bhuail ar daoine;

Cuairt mun amhaichean den caolain.

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Cuairt den caolain ín ŗite chneapan,

Is siridh mi ín sin taobh do leapach,

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Na fiachan uile air an džoladh,

Fhir ís a ghrŗidh, ís tu ín sin ad shžneadh.

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

* Athair, a Thighearna, tŤarainn sinn.

 

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.*

Why, O God upon the throne,

Why did you make the day today?

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Alas that I ever saw its brightness,

Iíd rather it were night forever.

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Oh my pain, my pain, my tormentís

The day they took my first love from me.

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Your brown body lying before me,

Blood pouring out from wound on wound.

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

The handsome man who lay beside me

There with his intestines trailing loose.

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Vengeance, vengeance, grief, destruction

On the people whoíve had me crucified.

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

King of the Elements, hear my oaths,

Listen to my petition and my prayer.

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Today the whites are full of gladness

And my children have no father.

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

And my life is empty now Ė

But grant me, while Iím still on earth,

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

For my husband lying before me,

When my sons have come of age,

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

In compensation for our grief,

Some perfect day for cutting throats,

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

For cutting throats of bloody men,

Blood on my fists up to the elbow,

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

For tearing them and torturing them

With a good blade upon my knife:

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Give us a day to pay back freely

The men, the women and the children

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

Of the white folk who struck our people

With a turn of their guts around their necksó

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

A turn of their guts instead of beads,

And then Iíll seek the side of your bed,

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

All the debts having been paid,

Beloved husband, whoís lying before me.

Baba InkÚsi Sikelele, Baba InkÚsi Sikelele.

 

* Father, O Lord, save us

 

 

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