O?che 's m? liom f?in - Night and me by myself
Her voice was in his ear, a haunting dark-velvet alto wound in song. Hudson stood at the water?s edge in the dark, with not one candle but many at his feet. The crash of waves on sand was less than a whisper to the song in his memories. Tang of salt in the air over-rode the sweet heavy fragrance of lilies as they washed to and fro with the foam, but the scent of heather and bog-violet was stronger in his mind. He?d not been able to find any flowers but the lilies.
Sp?artha dubh go domhain a cho?ch - Black skies, deeply, forever
Dawn would come in due time, and Hudson would have to confront this day. Chill wind whipped around him, caught at the heavy wool of his plaid, and lashed the candle flames high before it snuffed them. One somehow managed to stay alight, and black eyes fixed on that struggling flame. Protest against the darkness, it seemed to yearn for survival.
Ag cuimhneamh ar laetha a bh? gan gh? agus gan ghruaim - Remembering days without need and without gloom
Continuing, carrying on. One day at a time, but this day hardest yet. Kith and kin and hearth and home ? all but lost, except for the sister he had come in search of and found. Small success to balance against the larger failure. Moira had been one to find the silver lining in the darkest thundercloud, and tried to teach him the trick of it. She?d been his light in the black, fey moods that took him only rarely. He?d been her strength when she wept against the wracking pain, until his strength failed them both.
?istim leis an ghaoth - I listen to the wind
Candle-flame danced and flickered against the spray, and the stem of a lily brushed against the wax. She?d not had the purity of tone Sianna possessed, nor the captivating skill, but Moira?s voice had always enchanted him. She rarely sang, and in the last year not at all, but now her voice whispered the song that had been her favorite. Hudson had hated it ? too dark, too bleak. He would give anything to hear her sing it again; it was raw salt on a wound to know he never would.
Is fada anois an l? a d'fh?g m? mo bhaile - It's long now, the day I left home.
Her grave was worlds and time away. He?d run, fast and far and long, and used the search for his sister as an excuse. There was no doubt of that in Hudson?s mind. He?d been joyful to find Sianna alive, relieved to know he hadn?t failed her as well. It had still been an excuse, a way to escape. Too late he found that he couldn?t escape himself. ?You have to forgive yourself,? memory of Sylvia?s voice wove through the song.
N?l ?thas i mo shaol N?l ann ach an marbh as baile - There is no happiness in my life. There is nothing but the dead from home.
The candle flickered, flared, dimmed again with wind and spray, but did not blow out. Hudson?s voice was a whisper in the night. ?Tha mise Hudson a-nis 'gad ghabhail-sa Moira gu bhith 'nam ch?ile p?sda. Ann am fianais Dh? 's na tha seo de fhianaisean tha mise a' gealltainn a bhith 'nam bhean ph?sda dh?leas ghr?dhach agus thairis dhuitsa, cho fad's a bhios an d?this againn be?. ... dhuitsa, gus an d?an Dia leis a' bh?s ar dealachadh. Nil ann ach an marbh as baile, mo cridhe. Give me th? strength tae let ye rest. Give me th? strength tae move on.?
((?I, Hudson, am now taking you, Moira, to be my wife. With God and these people here witnessing, I promise to be a faithful, loving, and caring husband to you, so long as the two of us are alive, for you until God causes death to separate us. There is nothing but the dead from home, my heart.?))
Her voice was in his ear, a haunting dark-velvet alto wound in song. Hudson stood at the water?s edge in the dark, with not one candle but many at his feet. The crash of waves on sand was less than a whisper to the song in his memories. Tang of salt in the air over-rode the sweet heavy fragrance of lilies as they washed to and fro with the foam, but the scent of heather and bog-violet was stronger in his mind. He?d not been able to find any flowers but the lilies.
Sp?artha dubh go domhain a cho?ch - Black skies, deeply, forever
Dawn would come in due time, and Hudson would have to confront this day. Chill wind whipped around him, caught at the heavy wool of his plaid, and lashed the candle flames high before it snuffed them. One somehow managed to stay alight, and black eyes fixed on that struggling flame. Protest against the darkness, it seemed to yearn for survival.
Ag cuimhneamh ar laetha a bh? gan gh? agus gan ghruaim - Remembering days without need and without gloom
Continuing, carrying on. One day at a time, but this day hardest yet. Kith and kin and hearth and home ? all but lost, except for the sister he had come in search of and found. Small success to balance against the larger failure. Moira had been one to find the silver lining in the darkest thundercloud, and tried to teach him the trick of it. She?d been his light in the black, fey moods that took him only rarely. He?d been her strength when she wept against the wracking pain, until his strength failed them both.
?istim leis an ghaoth - I listen to the wind
Candle-flame danced and flickered against the spray, and the stem of a lily brushed against the wax. She?d not had the purity of tone Sianna possessed, nor the captivating skill, but Moira?s voice had always enchanted him. She rarely sang, and in the last year not at all, but now her voice whispered the song that had been her favorite. Hudson had hated it ? too dark, too bleak. He would give anything to hear her sing it again; it was raw salt on a wound to know he never would.
Is fada anois an l? a d'fh?g m? mo bhaile - It's long now, the day I left home.
Her grave was worlds and time away. He?d run, fast and far and long, and used the search for his sister as an excuse. There was no doubt of that in Hudson?s mind. He?d been joyful to find Sianna alive, relieved to know he hadn?t failed her as well. It had still been an excuse, a way to escape. Too late he found that he couldn?t escape himself. ?You have to forgive yourself,? memory of Sylvia?s voice wove through the song.
N?l ?thas i mo shaol N?l ann ach an marbh as baile - There is no happiness in my life. There is nothing but the dead from home.
The candle flickered, flared, dimmed again with wind and spray, but did not blow out. Hudson?s voice was a whisper in the night. ?Tha mise Hudson a-nis 'gad ghabhail-sa Moira gu bhith 'nam ch?ile p?sda. Ann am fianais Dh? 's na tha seo de fhianaisean tha mise a' gealltainn a bhith 'nam bhean ph?sda dh?leas ghr?dhach agus thairis dhuitsa, cho fad's a bhios an d?this againn be?. ... dhuitsa, gus an d?an Dia leis a' bh?s ar dealachadh. Nil ann ach an marbh as baile, mo cridhe. Give me th? strength tae let ye rest. Give me th? strength tae move on.?
((?I, Hudson, am now taking you, Moira, to be my wife. With God and these people here witnessing, I promise to be a faithful, loving, and caring husband to you, so long as the two of us are alive, for you until God causes death to separate us. There is nothing but the dead from home, my heart.?))