Anois Teacht An Earraigh(Spring Is Coming)

Another week another top Irish poem. This week it is number 50 which is a poem in Irish. Don’t worry I have included the English version as well.

Anois teacht an Earraigh roughly translated to “Spring is now coming”. Is a poem unlike any I have shared before. It was written by Antaine Ó Reachtaire (1784–1835) was better known as Raifteirí an file (the poet).

Blind since early childhood he was one of the last generations of traditional wandering Gaelic bards – playing the fiddle, singing and also composing.

It was only after his death that his work was written down. The poem ‘Cill Aodáin’ celebrates the Irish tradition of welcoming spring on St Brigid’s Day, the first of February.

This is considered to be his greatest piece and this is a person who has not to let his disabilities get in the way of life.

I have put both versions side by side. Enjoy and if you wish to get your weekly dose of Irish you can subscribe here. (I send it out every Friday straight to your inbox.

Irish Poem: Anois Teacht an Earraig(Spring Is Coming)

le Antaine Ó Raifteirí 1784-1835

“Anois teacht an Earraigh
beidh an lá dúl chun shíneadh,
Is tar eis na féil Bríde
ardóigh mé mo sheol.
Go Coillte Mach rachad
ní stopfaidh me choíche
Go seasfaidh mé síos
i lár Chondae Mhaigh Eo.”

I gClár Chlainne Mhuiris
A bheas mé an chéad oíche,
Is I mballa taobh thíos de
A thosós mé ag ól
Go Coillte Mách rachad
Go ndéanfad cuairt mhíosa ann
I bhfogas dhá mhíle
Do Bhéal an átha Mhóir.

Fágaim le huacht é
go n-éiríonn mo chroí-se
Mar a éiríonn an ghaoth
nó mar a scaipeann an ceo
Nuair a smaoiním ar Cheara
nó ar Ghaileang taobh thíos de
Ar Sceathach an Mhíle
nó ar phlánaí Mhaigh Eo.

Cill Aodáin an baile
a bhfásann gach ní ann,
Tá sméara is subh craobh ann
is meas de gach sórt,
Is dá mbéinnse i mo sheasamh
i gceartlár mo dhaoine
D’imeodh an aois díom
is bheinn arís óg.

Bíonn cruithneacht is coirce,
fás eorna is lín ann,
Seagal i gcraobh ann,
arán plúir agus feoil,
Lucht déanta poitín
gan licence á dhíol ann,
Móruaisle na tíre ann
ag imirt is ag ól.

Tá cur agus treabhadh
is leasú gan aoileach
Is iomaí sin ní ann
nár labhair me go fóill,
áitheanna is muilte
ag obair gan scíth ann,
Deamhan caint ar phingin cíosa
ná dada dá shórt.

English version by Frank O’Connor

Now with the springtime
The days will grow longer
And after St. Bride’s day’
My sail I’ll let go
I put my mind to it,
And I never will linger
Till I find myself back
In the County Mayo.

In Clare of Morris family
I will be the first night
and in the Wall on the side below it
I will begin to drink
to Maghs Woods I shall go
until I shall make a months visit there
two miles close
to the Mouth of the Big Ford.

I swear
that my heart rises up
as the wind rises up
or as the fog lifts
when I think about Ceara
or about Gaileang on the lower side of it
about Sceathach an Mhíle
or about the plains of Mayo.

Cill Liadain is the town
where everything grows
there are blackberries and raspberries there
and every sort of fruit
and were I to be standing
in the center of my people
age would depart from me
and I would be again young.

There is always wheat and oats
growing barley and flax there
rye in branch there
flower-bread and meat
the folks who make moonshine
without a licence selling it there
the pride of the country
playing and drinking.

There is sowing and plowing
and fertilizing without manure
and it’s many the thing there
of which I have not yet spoken
kilns and mills
working without rest there
with hardly any talk about a pennys rent
or about nothing of that sort.