One of my earliest memories (I have many vivid memories from before I learned to read at the age of 4, so earliest is really, really, early) is my absolute acceptance of the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem singing in Gaelic to an audience at Carnegie Hall. Not that I had any clue who Carnegie was, or where his hall was, but it never occurred to me to wonder why I couldn’t understand a single word of the song “Oro Se Do Bheathe Bhaile.” After I learned to read, I was slightly puzzled that they pronounced it “Oro shay doe vaha wallya” but it was the only line I could figure out, and I sang it loud.
Statistics show that Gaelic is steadily making a comeback in Ireland. From the late 19th century until WWII, fewer than one in five residents of the Emerald Isle spoke Gaelic; nearing the end of the 20th century, over twice that many professed an ability to speak it. I’m considering doing my part by moving there and learning the language myself. Eventually. It would be heartbreaking to think of losing something as melodic and moving as the sound of such a glorious tongue.
Languages fascinate me; one of the strong appeals of Tolkein’s “Lord of the Rings” was his masterful ability, not just with English, but with fully formed languages he created himself. I’m also enthralled when a song to which I cannot understand the words still manages to convey enormous depth of feeling, merely by using the right music and the singer’s ability to emote.
One of the lesser known tracks from Enya‘s pseudo–debut album “Watermark (actually her second) is a stirring lament called “Na Laetha Geal M’Óige.” Fortunately for us, there are now plenty of Irish speakers to translate it, include one Eithne Ní Bhraonáin, who, along with Roma Ryan, wrote the song. (The ‘th’ is silent, but it adds some bounce to the ‘n’, so ‘Eithne’ is pronounced ‘Enya.’ Eithne Ní Bhraonáin; Enya, daughter of Brennan.)
“Na Laetha Geal M’Óige” laments the dreams of youth, shattered by the pain of disillusionment.
Ag amharc trí m’óige
Sé mé bhí sámh
Gan eolas marbh
Bhí mé óg gan am
Anois táim buartha
‘S fad ar shiúl an lá
Ochón is ochón ó
Na laetha geal m’óige
Bhí siad lán de dhóchas
An bealach mó a bhí romhan ansin
Bhí sé i ndán dom go mbeadh mé slán
Looking back at my youth
I was content
Without dead knowledge
I was young, without time
Now I’m sorrowful
Those days are long past
Sadness and loss
The great days of my youth
They were full of expectation
The great journey that was before me then
Happiness was in store for me
As Jimmy Buffet said, I may grow older, but I refuse to grow up. As I age, I’m discovering the optimism of youth; the days are full of expectation, and happiness is in store for me.
As closely as I can transcribe it, the title of the song is pronounced
Na laAYheh gayAHL moihGEH
Buy yourself some Gaelic instruction books and tapes, and maybe we’ll have a pint in a peaceful Belfast someday.
There’s still plenty of the great journey before us. On the road, dreams fill hearts just as bread and wine fill stomachs. The difference is, no matter how scarce the bread and wine become, dreams can still be shared.