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Mairg darab galar an grádh

(Love is a sad sickness)
Author: Isibeul ní Mhic Cailín

Here's a verse translation.
Irish My English translation
Mairg darab galar an grádh, Love is a sad sickness --
gibé fath fá n-abraim é When speaking to him, whatever the cause,
is deacair sgarthain re a pháirt; it is a hardship to separate after time together.
truagh an cás a bhfuilim féin. Pity my own blood's case.
-- --
An grádh-soin tugas gan fhios, This love of mine came without [my] knowledge;
ós é mo leas gan a luadh, my benefits came over him without mention.
muna fhaghad furtacht tráth, For us delay departure an hour,
biaidh mo bhláth go tana truagh. if my flower would, till a time of pity.
-- --
An fear-soin dá dtugas grádh, This man of mine -- love came, for him,
's nách féadaim a rádh ós aird, and I cannot say from what direction;
dá gcuire sé mise i bpéin, though buried, it's myself in pain,
go madh dó féin bhus céad mairg! till I burn myself with a hundred sorrows!

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