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Agaliha
July 21st, 2008, 05:16 PM
AN COISRIGEADH SIOIL [88]

Theid mi mach a chur an t-sioil An ainm an Ti a thug da fas, Cuirim m' aghaidh anns a ghaoith, Is tilgim baslach caon an gird. Ma thuiteas silc air lic luim, Cha bhi fuinn aige gu fas; Mheud's a thuiteas anns an uir, Bheir an druchd dha a bhi lan.
Di-aoine la nam buadh, Thig dealt a nuas a chur failt Air gach por a bha 'n an suain, Bho na thainig fuachd gun bhaigh; Friamhaichidh gach por's an uir, Mar a mhiannaich Righ nan dul, Thig an fochann leis an druchd, Gheobh e beatha bho 'n ghaoith chiuin.
Thig mi mu 'n cuairt le m' cheum, Theid mi deiseil leis a ghrein, An ainm Airil's nan aingeal naodh, An ainm Ghabril's nan ostal caomh. Athair is Mac is Spiorad Naomh, Bhi toir fas is toradh maoth Do gach cail a ta 'n am raon, Gon tar an latha caon.
La Fheill Micheil, la nam buadh, Cuiridh mi mo chorran cuart Bun an arbhair mar bu dual, Togam an ceud bheum gu luath; Cuirim e tri char mu 'n cuart Mo cheann, 's mo rann ga luadh, Mo chulaibh ris an airde tuath; 'S mo ghnuis ri grein ghil nam buadh.
Tilgim am beum fada bhuam, Duinim mo dha shuil da uair, Ma thuiteas e na aon dual Bithidh mo chruachan biochar buan; Cha tig Cailleach ri an-uair Dh' iarraidh bonnach boise bhuainn, Duair thig gaillionn garbh na gruaim Cha bhi gainne oirnn no cruas.

THE CONSECRATION OF THE SEED

I will go out to sow the seed In name of Him who gave it growth; I will place my front in the wind, And throw a gracious handful on high. Should a grain fall on a bare rock, It shall have no soil in which to grow; As much as falls into the earth, The dew will make it to be full.
Friday, day auspicious, The dew will come down to welcome Every seed that lay in sleep Since the coming of cold without mercy; Every seed will take root in the earth, As the King of the elements desired, The braird will come forth with the dew, It will inhale life from the soft wind.
I will come round with my step, I will go rightways with the sun, In name of Ariel and the angels nine, In name of Gabriel and the Apostles kind. Father, Son, and Spirit Holy, Be giving growth and kindly substance To every thing that is in my ground, Till the day of gladness shall come.
The Feast day of Michael, day beneficent, I will put my sickle round about The root of my corn as was wont; I will lift the first cut quickly; I will put it three turns round My head, saying my rune the while, My back to the airt of the north; My face to the fair sun of power.
I shall throw the handful far from me, I shall close my two eyes twice, Should it fall in one bunch My stacks will be productive and lasting No Carlin will come with bad times To ask a palm bannock from us, What time rough storms come with frowns Nor stint nor hardship shall be on us.