A Chairde,
In
the spirit of Prefect of Police Captain Louis Renault, I'm shocked,
shocked, that no one asked for the Irish version of my "Death Rann" (or,
of course, Rann an Bháis).
You-all may remember it was, as Sacs-Bhéarla:
The world descends into darkness,
China wields the ruling ring of Mordor
And Ringwraiths rule the world.
Maudlin, to be sure.
Here's the Irish original.
Beartaíonn an tSín fáinne na cumhachta Mordor
'Is na Taisí Fáinneacha an Domhan a rialú.
Obviously,
light-years of a difference, the opposite side o' the Multiverse. Can
any other descendant of Babel match Irish for precision, clarity, lucidity?
Not to mention the euphonic melodiousness so resonant in its lyric?
(To ask these questions is to answer 'em!)
In the meantime, I've been meditating on these lines from Flann O'Brien's At Swim Two-Birds. I pass them on to ye without further ado.
(page
16) I like gull-cries and the twittering together of fine cranes. I
like the surf-roar at Tralee, the songs of the three sons of Meadhra and
the whistle of Mac Lughaidh. These also please me, man-shouts at a
parting, cuckoo-call in May. I incline to like pig-grunting in Magh
Eithne, the bellow of the stag of Ceara, the whinging of fauns in
Derrynish. The low warble of water-owls in Loch Barra also, sweeter than
life that. I am fond of wing-beating in dark belfries, cow-cries in
pregnancy, trout-spurt in a lake-top. Also the whining of small otters
in nettle-beds at evening, the croaking of small-jays behind a wall,
these are heart-pleasing. (And after listing a host of the fowl of Éireann, Finn says:)
A satisfying ululation is the contending of a river with the sea.
A satisfying ululation is the contending of a river with the sea.
Ah, had Flann only been in his Myles na gCopaleen avatar when writing that, and had composed it as Gaeilge!
An Préachán
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