Transcript

Bhí fear saibhir ann. Bhí beirt mhac aige. Dúirt an mac óg lena athair, "Tabhair dom pé méid coda athá ag dul dom." Dhein an t-athair amhlaidh. Ansan thóg sé leis é go dúthaigh iasachta is do chaith é le haeraíocht.

Ansan tháinig ana-ghorta sa dúthaigh sin agus dob éigean dó dul ag tuilleamh a choda nuair a (thit) an gátar leis. Cuireadh ag feighil mhuc é. D'itheadh sé bia i gcuibhreann na muc le hocras. Dhein sé machnamh lá. "Féach," ar seisean, "is mó seirbhíseach i dtigh m'athar go bhfuil fuíollach bídh le n-ithe acu agus mise anso ag fáil bháis le hocras. Raghad ag triall ar m'athair is déarfad leis mé a ghlacadh i measc na seirbhíseach agus go mbeidh mé sásta." Dhein sé amhlaidh.

Chonaic an t-athair chuige é. Tháinig ana-thrua aige dhó. Do rith ina choinne. Chuir a lámha timpeall air agus dhein é a phógadh. "A athair," ar seisean, "ní fiú mé feasta bheith mar mhac agat ach tóg mé i measc na seirbhíseach agus bead sásta." Dúirt an t-athair lena sheirbhíseach, "Tabhair chuige amach an chulaith is fearr sa tigh. Cuir uime í. Cuir bróga ar a chosa agus fáinne ar a mhéir. Maraigh gamhain ramhar agus glaoigh ar na comharsain agus deinig féasta mar d'fhill mo mhac slán a shíleas a bhí marbh."

D'airigh an mac críonna a bhí sa pháirc an fothram. D'fhiafraigh sé do sheirbhíseach cad ba bhun leis an spórt. Dúirt an seirbhíseach leis, "Do dheartháir óg atá fillthe abhaile. Is d'ordaigh t'athair gamhain ramhar a mharú in onóir dó." Tháinig fearg ar an mac críonna. Ní raghadh sé isteach. Tháinig an t-athair amach agus d'fhiafraigh de cad ba bhun leis an dtormas. "Féach," ar seisean, "táimse anso agat i gcónaí agus níor mharaís riamh fiú mionnán gamh-... (...) níor mharaís riamh fiú mionnán gamhair im thómas. Ach an mac eile seo dhuit dh'imigh sa dúthaigh iasachta is do chaith a chuid go léir ar anaiste, nuair fhill[1] sé abhaile do mharaís gamhain ramhar in onóir dó."

"Féach, a mhic ó," arsa an t-athair, "bhís-se im fhochair i gcónaí. Is leat mo chuid don tsaol. Ach is cóir dúinn bheith meidhreach mar gur fhill do dheartháir (lándó) a shíleas a bhí marbh. Do chailleadh[2] é is do fuaradh é.

Translation

There was a rich man. He had two sons. The younger son said to his father, "Give me whatever amount is due to me." The father did that. Then he took it with him to a foreign land and spent it on entertainment.

Then there was a great famine in that land and he had to go and earn his keep when the need befell him. He was sent herding pigs. He was so hungry that he used to eat with the pigs. He did some thinking one day. "Look," he said, "there are many servants in my father's house who have plenty of food to eat and I am here dying of hunger. I will go to see my father and I will ask him to take me in with his servants and I will be happy." That is what he did.

The father saw him coming. He took great pity on him. He ran towards him. He embraced him and kissed him. "Father," he said, "I am no longer worthy of being your son but take me in amongst your servants and I will be happy." The father told his servant, "Bring him out the best suit in the house. Put it on him. Put shoes on his feet and a ring on his finger. Kill a fatted calf and call the neighbours and make a feast because my son whom I thought was dead has returned safe."

The elder son who was in the field heard the noise. He asked the servant what the cause of the commotion was. The servant told him, "Your younger brother has come back home. And your father ordered that a fatted calf be killed in his honour." The elder brother became angry. He would not go in. The father came out and asked him the cause of his grumbling. "Look," he said, "I am here with you all the time and you never even killed a kid goat (...) you never even killed a kid goat in my honour. But this other son of yours who went to a foreign land and spent all he had prodigally, when he returned home you killed a fatted calf in his honour."

"Look, son," said the father, "you were with me all the time. What is mine is yours. But we ought to be happy that your brother whom I thought was dead returned (...). He was lost and he was found.

Footnotes

Commentary

This telling of the Parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15: 11-32) is based on a version supplied to the speaker in advance. See Peadar Ua Laoghaire, Na cheithre Soisgéil as an dTiomna Nua (Dublin, 1915), 191-2. The speaker was encouraged to adapt the text to his own dialect.