ΕΝΑΣ ΙΡΛΑΝΔΟΣ ΠΑΤΡΙΩΤΗΣ ΚΑΙ ΒΑΡΔΟΣ ΤΟΥ ΕΡΩΤΑ

James Clarence Mangan 
(1803-1849)

 Dark Rosaleen

O MY dark Rosaleen,
Do not sigh, do not weep!
The priests are on the ocean green,
They march along the deep.
There’s wine from the royal Pope, 5
Upon the ocean green;
And Spanish ale shall give you hope,
My dark Rosaleen!
My own Rosaleen!
Shall glad your heart, shall give you hope, 10
Shall give you health and help, and hope,
My Dark Rosaleen.

Over hills, and through dales, 

Σε βουνά και σε λαγκάδια
Have I roamed for your sake; 

γύρισα για το χατήρι σου.
All yesterday I sailed with sails 15
Χθες όλη τη μέρα έπλεα με ανοιχτά πανιά

 On river and on lake.

σε ποταμούς και σε λίμνες.

The Erne, at its highest flood,
Τον Έρνη στην πιο μεγάλη του φουρτούνα,

I dashed across unseen,
αόρατος τον πέρασα με ορμή,

For there was lightning in my blood,
γιατί αστραπή ήτανε μές στο αίμα μου,

My dark Rosaleen! 20
μελαχρινή μου Ροζαλίνα

My own Rosaleen!
δική μου Ροζαλίνα

Oh! there was lightning in my blood,
Ω, αστραπή κυκλοφορούσε  στο αίμα μου

Red lightning lightened through my blood,
κόκκινη αστραπή άστραφτε μες στο αίμα μου

My Dark Rosaleen!

μελαχρινή μου Ροζαλίνα!

All day long in unrest, 25
Όλη τη μέρα μ΄ανησυχία

To and fro do I move,
μπρος-πίσω κινούμαι,

The very soul within my breast
κατάβαθα η ψυχή μου στο στήθος

Is wasted for you, love!
λιώνει για σένα, αγάπη μου!

The heart in my bosom faints
Η καρδιά σβήνει στο στήθος μου

To think of you, my Queen, 30
στη σκέψη σου, βασίλισσά μου,

My life of life, my saint of saints,
My dark Rosaleen! 20
μελαχρινή μου Ροζαλίνα

My own Rosaleen!
δική μου Ροζαλίνα

To hear your sweet and sad complaints,
Όταν ακούω το γλυκό και θλιμμένο παράπονό σου,

My life, my love, my saint of saints, 35
ζωή μου, αγάπη μου, των αγίων μου αγία,

My Dark Rosaleen!

Μελαχρινή μου Ροζαλίνα!

Woe and pain, pain and woe,
Are my lot, night and noon,
To see your bright face clouded so,
Like to the mournful moon. 40
But yet will I rear your throne
Again in golden sheen;
’Tis you shall reign, shall reign alone,
My dark Rosaleen!
My own Rosaleen! 45
’Tis you shall have the golden throne,
’Tis you shall reign, shall reign alone,
My Dark Rosaleen!

Over dews, over sands,
Will I fly for your weal: 50
Your holy, delicate white hands
Shall girdle me with steel.
At home in your emerald bowers,
From morning’s dawn till e’en,
You’ll pray for me, my flower of flowers, 55
My dark Rosaleen!
My fond Rosaleen!
You’ll think of me through daylight’s hours,
My virgin flower, my flower of flowers,
My Dark Rosaleen! 60

I could scale the blue air,
I could plough the high hills,
Oh, I could kneel all night in prayer,
To heal your many ills!
And one beamy smile from you 65
Would float like light between
My toils and me, my own, my true,
My dark Rosaleen!
My fond Rosaleen!
Would give me life and soul anew, 70
A second life, a soul anew,
My Dark Rosaleen!

O! the Erne shall run red
With redundance of blood,
The earth shall rock beneath our tread, 75
And flames wrap hill and wood,
And gun-peal, and slogan cry
Wake many a glen serene,
Ere you shall fade, ere you shall die,
My dark Rosaleen! 80
My own Rosaleen!
The Judgment Hour must first be nigh
Ere you can fade, ere you can die,
My Dark Rosaleen!

ΠΗΓΗ: Padraic Colum (1881–1972), "Anthology of Irish Verse", 1922.