"I, myself, am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions.
" - Augusten Burroughs
Saved child of God
, bibliophile, hopelessly geeking
fangirl, pre-medical student, military supporter, South Carolinian, small town
travel junkie, and lover of the Southern
way of life ♥
Tha beagan Gàidhlig agam.
- Is e iomradh an droch latha a nì latha math gu iomradh
Practise rowing in a rough sea and soon the rough sea will seem calm to you
- Mionn nach còir a dhèanamh cha chòir a gléidheil
An oath that ought not to be made ought not to be kept
- Is fhearr “fire-faire” na “mo thruaigh”
Better to be envied than pitied
- Is fhearr duine bochd na breugaire
A poor man is better than a liar
- Is fhearr am beag-seadhach na an draghaiche mór, mi-ghnìomhach
The little sensible man is better than the great inactive burdensome man
- Is fhearr tilleadh am meadhan an àth na bàthadh uile
Better turn in the middle of the ford than drown yourself completely
- Is miste baile fear is a’ bhara ri falbh
A township is the worse of a man who intends to leave.
- Am miosad ‘s an donad mar a bha cuilean a’ mhadaidh-ruaidh
The bigger the worse as the fox’s whelp.
- Aiteamh na gaoithe tuath air an t-sneachda — tuilleadh a chur ‘na cheann
The north wind’s way of thawing the snow is to add more to it
- Is usa ràdh na chur an gnìomh,
Easier said than done.
- Tha tuilleadh ‘s a phaidir aige
He knows more than his rosary.
“The hand that gives is the one that receives”
- This is a Scottish Gaelic proverb from Nova Scotia; Nova Scotian Gaelic is interesting in that it has retained a lot of old fashioned Gaelic forms and then borrowed some words from Mi’kmaq. For a while there even was a Gaelic pidgin language used in Nova Scotia between First Nations and Scottish Gaels, made up of English, Gaelic, French, Cree, Ojibway and other First Nations’ languages.
“An Latha a Fhuair Gàidhlig Greim air an t-Saoghail”
bu toil leam fuireach san t-saoghal seo.
allúrach, coimhthíoch, eachtrannach agus gall.
daaroe, rovkije (non-Saami woman), laedtie (non-Saami man)
ládde, ålggorijkak, dádtja
aineol, coigreach, far-thìreanach, eilthireach , coimheach, farbhalach, achdran, eachdranach
I’m pretty sure most of you haven’t heard this Gaelic ballad before, but in short it tells the story of Fionn, King of Scotland, and how he dreams about the most beautiful woman on the planet.
But it’s a very feminist song, so screw the king and his gazing, when the man who has been sent awa to track down this beauty and take her home to the king, the woman is by no means letting the king get away with his shit, so she gets him drunk, plays the harp, tells the soldier to put his face in her lap which he gladly does, thinking he’s about to get lucky and, well, let’s have a look at the last verse;
Ghoid i ‘n claidheamh geur fo crios
Thilg i dheth gun fhiosd an ceann
Siud agaibh deireadh mo sgeòil
’S mar a sheinneadh am bròn binn.
Yes, indeed, it does translate as
She stole the sharp sword from his belt
and without anyone noticing, she cut off his head
and thus endeth my story
and this is how the Sweet Sorrow is sung
Gaelic psalms at Back Free Church, Isle Of Lewis- 20/21/oct/2003
Tha Mo Ghaol Air Àird a’ Chuan - My Love is On the High Seas
one of my favorite Scottish Gaelic songs
and this video is just perfect
Ged tha mo cheann air liathadh,
Le deuchainnean is bron,
Is grian mo leth-cheud bliadhna
Air ciaradh fo na neoil;
Tha m’ aigne air an lionadh
Le iarrtas tha ro mhor,
A dh’fhaicinn Eilean Sgiathach
Na siantanan ‘s a’ cheo.
Tha corr ‘s da fhichead bliadhna
Bho’n thriall mi uait gam’ dheoin.
’S a chuir mi sios mo lion
Ann am meadhon baile mhoir;
Is ged a fhuair mi iasgair
A lion mo thaigh le stor,
Bu chuimhneachail mi riamh ort
’S bu mhiann leam bhi ‘nad choir.
Ach co aig a bheil cluasan
No cridh’ tha gluasad beo,
Nach seinneadh leam an duan seo
Mu’n truaigh’ a thainig oirnn?
Na milltean a chaidh fhuadach
Thar chuain gun chuid, ‘s gun choir,
Tha miann an cridh’ ‘s an smuaintean
Air Eilean uain’ a’ Cheo.
Nis, cuimhnichibh ur cruadal,
Is cumaibh suas ur srol;
Gu’n teid an roth mu’n cuairt duibh
Le neart is cruas nan dorn;
Gum bi bhur crodh air buailtean
’S gach tuathanach air doigh;
’S na Sas’nnaich air am fuadach
A Eilean uain’ a’ Cheo.
Although my head has greyed
With forgetfulness and sadness,
And the sun of my fifty years
Has darkened under the clouds;
My thoughts are filled
With a great desire,
To see the Isle of Skye
The elements and the mist.
It is more than forty years
Since I left you willingly,
And I put down my roots
In the middle of the city;
And although I married a fisherman
Who filled my house with wealth,
You are forever in my mind
And I long to be in your shelter.
But who has ears,
Or a heart which beats with life
Who will not sing this song with me
About the hardship which has befallen us?
The thousands who were cleared
Deprived of their belongings and their rights,
The desires of their hearts and their thoughts
Are on the “Green Isle of the Mist”.
Now remember your hardship,
And keep your banner flying;
For the wheel (of change) will not go round for you
Without strength and hardness of fist;
Your cattle will be in their folds,
And every farmer will be happy -
And the English would be ousted
From the “Green Isle of the Mist”.
An-diugh - Today
A-nochd - Tonight
A-Màireach - Tomorrow
Anns a’ mhadainn/Sa Mhadainn - In the morning
An t-seachdain seo - This week
An ath sheachdain - Next week
Biodh an Deoch Seo ‘n Làimh Mo Rùin - Julie Fowlis
The drink will be in the hand of my lover
(Source: mothpope, via disarrayofhappenstance)