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La Torre de BabelDesde los principios de la historia, el hombre se tuvo que comunicar en diferentes lenguas. Por eso, este foro te permitirá conocer y publicar poemas en idiomas diferentes al español.
La Torre de BabelDiscutiendo poema Mairg darab galar an grádh... en el foro La Torre de Babel; Este poema està en irlandès, un idioma y un paìs que siempre me ha interesado, espero les guste.
In Irish (irlandès)
Mairg darab galar an grádh,
gibé fath fá n-abraim é
is deacair sgarthain re a pháirt;
truagh an ...
Este poema està en irlandès, un idioma y un paìs que siempre me ha interesado, espero les guste.
In Irish (irlandès)
Mairg darab galar an grádh,
gibé fath fá n-abraim é
is deacair sgarthain re a pháirt;
truagh an cás a bhfuilim féin.
An grádh-soin tugas gan fhios,
ós é mo leas gan a luadh,
muna fhaghad furtacht tráth,
biaidh mo bhláth go tana truagh.
An fear-soin dá dtugas grádh,
's nách féadaim a rádh ós aird,
dá gcuire sé mise i bpéin,
go madh dó féin bhus céad mairg!
In English
Love is a sad sickness
When speaking to him, whatever the cause,
it is a hardship to separate after time together.
Pity my own blood's case.
This love of mine came without my knowledge;
my benefits came over him without mention.
For us delay departure an hour,
if my flower would, till a time of pity.
This man of mine -- love came, for him,
and I cannot say from what direction;
though buried, it's myself in pain,
till I burn myself with a hundred sorrows!
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Mensajes: 330
Localización: Estados Unidos
Sexo: Masculino
Re: Mairg darab galar an grádh...
Cita:
Originalmente Escrito por deutsch ethel
Este poema està en irlandès, un idioma y un paìs que siempre me ha interesado, espero les guste.
In Irish (irlandès)
Mairg darab galar an grádh,
gibé fath fá n-abraim é
is deacair sgarthain re a pháirt;
truagh an cás a bhfuilim féin.
An grádh-soin tugas gan fhios,
ós é mo leas gan a luadh,
muna fhaghad furtacht tráth,
biaidh mo bhláth go tana truagh.
An fear-soin dá dtugas grádh,
's nách féadaim a rádh ós aird,
dá gcuire sé mise i bpéin,
go madh dó féin bhus céad mairg!
In English
Love is a sad sickness
When speaking to him, whatever the cause,
it is a hardship to separate after time together.
Pity my own blood's case.
This love of mine came without my knowledge;
my benefits came over him without mention.
For us delay departure an hour,
if my flower would, till a time of pity.
This man of mine -- love came, for him,
and I cannot say from what direction;
though buried, it's myself in pain,
till I burn myself with a hundred sorrows!
Absolutely Fantastic! And how is it that you learned such a wonderful language? I congratulate you, and thank you for the English translation, or I would have never been able to understand it! Please don't disappear, we need more creativity in foreign languages here!
jaguey
"Es criminal quien sonríe al crimen;
quien lo ve y no lo ataca;
quien se sienta a su mesa;
quien se sienta a la mesa
de los que se codean con él
o le sacan el sombrero interesado;
quienes reciben de él el permiso de vivir."
-José Martí-
Thank you for reading me, it's nice to know people who is intested in other languages. I fell in love with Ireland when I visited it, it amazing, mysterious...beautiful. The language is almost dead, but some people from inside Ireland still want to keep it, and they try not to lose it, I bought some books and dictionaries, also in Celtic, and that is how I made it.
Kisses! see u here!
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