Meon Gaelach: A Translation of Máirtín Ó Direáin's Poem on Pádraig Pearse

The following first appeared on the Substack ‘Creeve Rua’ and is syndicated with the permission of the author.

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Ó Direáin’s youthful radicalism

For this week’s Meon Gaelach I am returning to Máirtín Ó Direáin’s early work for the 1941 25th Anniversary of the Easter Rising edition of Aiséirighe. In this poem, Ó Direáin writes to Pádraig Pearse, hoping to resurrect the spirit and vitalism of the great leader of 1916.

Maintaining a certain boyish or rousing optimism, Ó Diréain hails the Rí na laoch mear (King of gallant heroes) and predicts tiocfaidh spreac’ ’rís i nGaedhealaibh (rebellion will arise again in the Gaels). Certainly, the border war of the coming decade, with the martyrdom of men like Seán South and Fergal O’Hanlon, as well as the resurgence of the Republican movement under Ruairí Ó Brádaigh, saw something of a revitalised spirit of nationalism after the dark ages of the war years upon which Ó Direáin writes here — when so many Republicans were crushed by the De Valera ‘emergency’ policy.

As with his poem dedicated to James Connolly, it’s worth the reader bears in mind the radical circles Ó Direáin was writing and swimming in at the time, very similar to Seán South as well — mostly being those of the journal these poems featured in, as well as Córas na Poblachta members as well as Clann na Poblachta.

To Pearse

I

Ireland free and Gaelic,

The mantra of the King of gallant heroes,

And oh God! It is not true that he failed,

T’was we who went with English henceforth.

II

But be patient, the warriors will be appointed!

This pause will not last for us much longer,

For rebellion will arise again in the Gaels,

As they wage another battle against English.

III

At the end of battle you were not given a memorial

In limestone words nor on a marble grave,

But your name will be a shimmering idol in the hearts of every child,

And your story will be narrated in tasteful Gaelic.

Don Phiarsach

I

Éire saor is í ’bheith Gaedhealach,

An manadh ’bhí ag Rí na laoch mear,

’S a Dhia! Nach fíor gur sinn ’d’fheall air,

’S sinn a claoidh’ le Béarla feasta.

II

Acht foighid go fóill, a thogha na ngaisgideach!

Ní mhairfidh an staid seo dhúinn acht tamall,

Óir tiocfaidh spreac’ ’rís i nGaedhealaibh,

’S cuirfear ath-uair cath ar Bhéarla.

III

Ag deir’ an chath ní thógfar leacht dhuit

I gcloch aoil ná i marmar greannta;

Acht beidh t-ainm dhil ghil i gcroidhe gach leinbh,

’S do scéal dá aithris i nGaedhilg bhlasta.