t h e  g r e a t  b o o k  o f  g a e l i c

a n  l e a b h a r  m ò r

Neach-ealain / Artist: Mick O Kelly
Snas-sgrìobhadair / Calligrapher: The Artist
Eadar-theangaichte aig / Translator: Ronald Black
Roghainn / Nominator: Myles Campbell

 

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.*

Carson, a Dhè a tha sa chathair,

Carson an-diugh a rinn Thu ’n latha?

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Mo-nuar gum faca mi a shoillse

Ach a bhith gu bràth san oidhche.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Och, mo chràdh, mo chràdh ’s mo lèireadh,

An latha thug iad uam mo cheud-ghràdh.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Do chorp donn an sin na laighe,

Toll air tholl a’ sileadh fala.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Am fear bòidheach laigh rim thaobh-sa

An sin ’s a mhionach às a’ slaodadh.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Aichbheil, aichbheil, sgrios is lèireadh

Air an luchd a rinn mo cheusadh.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Eisd rim ghuidhean, Rìgh nan Dùilean,

Eisd rim athchuinge ’s rim ùrnaigh.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Tha ’n luchd bàn an-diugh làn aigheir

’S tha mo phàistean-sa gun athair.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Is tha mo bheatha-sa nis falamh -

Ach ceadaich dhomh, mum fàg mi ’n talamh,

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Air m’ fhear-cèile ’n sin na shìneadh,

Nuair a thig mo mhic gu ìre,

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

An èirig dhuinn airson ar dòrainn,

Latha rèidh a ghearradh sgòrnan;

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Ghearradh sgòrnan nam fear fuileach,

Fuil mum dhòrnaibh suas gu uilinn,

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

A bhith gan reubadh is gam pianadh

Is deagh fhaobhar air mo sgian-sa.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Thoir latha dhuinn gu saor a’ pàigheadh

Fhir is mhnathan agus phàistean

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

An luchd ghil a bhuail ar daoine;

Cuairt mun amhaichean den caolain.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Cuairt den caolain ’n àite chneapan,

Is siridh mi ’n sin taobh do leapach,

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Na fiachan uile air an dìoladh,

Fhir ’s a ghràidh, ’s tu ’n sin ad shìneadh.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

* Athair, a Thighearna, tèarainn sinn.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.*

Why, O God upon the throne,

Why did you make the day today?

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Alas that I ever saw its brightness,

I’d rather it were night forever.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Oh my pain, my pain, my torment’s

The day they took my first love from me.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Your brown body lying before me,

Blood pouring out from wound on wound.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

The handsome man who lay beside me

There with his intestines trailing loose.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Vengeance, vengeance, grief, destruction

On the people who’ve had me crucified.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

King of the Elements, hear my oaths,

Listen to my petition and my prayer.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Today the whites are full of gladness

And my children have no father.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

And my life is empty now –

But grant me, while I’m still on earth,

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

For my husband lying before me,

When my sons have come of age,

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

In compensation for our grief,

Some perfect day for cutting throats,

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

For cutting throats of bloody men,

Blood on my fists up to the elbow,

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

For tearing them and torturing them

With a good blade upon my knife:

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Give us a day to pay back freely

The men, the women and the children

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

Of the white folk who struck our people

With a turn of their guts around their necks—

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

A turn of their guts instead of beads,

And then I’ll seek the side of your bed,

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

All the debts having been paid,

Beloved husband, who’s lying before me.

Baba Inkòsi Sikelele, Baba Inkòsi Sikelele.

* Father, O Lord, save us