Transcript

Bhi fear fadó ann agus bhí beirt mhac aige. Agus an tara mac, dúirt sé lena athair gach a raibh le fáil aige féin a thabhairt dó. Dúirt an t-athair go dtabharfadh. Thug sé dhó é is d'imigh ansan (...) lasmuigh. Má dhein níor thairig sé (srian leis) nó gur chaith sé bunoscionn ar ól is ar mhná is ar gach drochní gach a raibh aige.

Bhí sé fuarnochtaithe agus gan snáithin éadach ná greim le hithe aige. Agus b'éigean dó dul i mbun mhuc d'fheirmeoir agus ní raibh an feirmeoir féin i mbun aon ní a thabhairt dó. (Ba gheairid) (...) ar bhia na muc agus a dhóthain d'ithe is d'ól (dó) agus ní maith mar a bhí aige.

Do bhuail smaoineamh lá é agus dúirt sé go raibh bia agus deoch ag a... flúirse (...) seirbhísigh a athar féin agus é féin fuarnochtaithe (le leaththroscadh). Thug sé fén dtigh agus do cheap an t-athair gur caillte a bhí sé le (...) (do shaol) roimis sin mar ní raibh sé amuigh. Scéal ná tuairisc a chur ag triall air, níorbh é ba mheasa leis.

Do chonaic an t-athair ag déanamh ar an dtigh é agus má chonaic do dhein sé féna dhéin agus do rug sé barróg air agus d'fháilthigh sé roimis an mac. "Céad fáilthe romhat, a mhic," ar seisean. "Cheapas gur fadó a bhís ins an uaigh," ar seisean.

"Ní fiú mé na fáilthí ar fad, a athair, a chur romham," ar seisean, "mar do thána chughat go hainnis," ar seisean, "(do bhreis ar) mar dh'fhágas," ar seisean. "Do chaitheas mo chuid bunoscionn," ar seisean, "is dá mbeadh greim anois agam air ní dhéanfainn é," ar seisean.

"Á, a mhic," arsa an t-athair, ar seisean. "Maith in aghaidh an oilc. Agus is maith an té a chuimhneoidh ar... Maith an t-am cuimhneamh ar Dhia anois féin é," ar seisean. "Ghlaoigh sé ar dhuine dhá sheirbhísigh is dúirt sé leis an seirbhíseach dul agus culaith éadaigh a thabhairt chuige ó bhonn baitheas. Do bhuail sé air suas é agus fáinne óir ar a mhéir. Agus dúirt sé... Thug sé ordú dhon seirbhíseach dul agus an gamhain ramhar a mharú ina thómas, go n-íosfadh sé a dhóthain dó mar gur (dhealraigh) sé gur fada a shaol roimis sin gur dh'ith sé a dhóthain."

Nuair a bhí san déanta dh'ardaigh sé leis isteach é. Agus nuair a bhí a dhóthain ite óltha aige do séideadh suas na ceoltha le hómós dó.

Agus do bhí an deartháir críonna ag déanamh ar an dtigh nuair a chuala sé na ceoltha agus ghlaoigh sé féin ar sheirbhíseach. D'fhiafraigh sé dhon seirbhíseach cad é réasún na gceoltha so ar fad istigh. "Dhera, do dheartháir," ar seisean, "a tháinig abhaile. Agus tá ómós á dhéanamh dó. Fiú amháin," ar seisean, "maraíodh... maraíodh an gamhain ramhar dó," ar seisean.

"Mhuise, (fuachtar fathar) ar m'athairse," arsa seisean. "Is mó lá cruaidh agam féin tugtha," ar seisean, "riamh," ar seisean, "fé allas agus fé thrioblóid," ar seisean. "Níor mharaibh sé gamhain ramhar ná bullán dom," ar seisean, "(de bhreis) ar an mbleaigeard," ar seisean, "fiú amháin," ar seisean, "do chaith a chuid ar na striapacha," ar seisean. "B'ionann san is mise," ar seisean. "Ní raghad ar (...) go deo arís."

Do chualaidh an t-athair cad a bhí ar bun agus bhí iontas air cad é an réasún ná raibh a mhac ag teacht isteach is chuaigh sé amach. "A mhic," ar seisean, "cad é an chiall ná tagann tú isteach?"

"Ní thiocfad, a athair," ar seisean, "mar níor dheinis an t-ómós so atá déanta dhon mbleaigeard úd in aon chor agat," ar seisean, "cé gur mó lá cruaidh tugtha agam duit."

"Ná bac san, a mhic," ar seisean. "Sé mo mhac é gan dabht," ar seisean. "Is maith in aghaidh an oilc (?)," ar seisean. "Ní chuirfidh san tusa gan do chuid féin," ar seisean, "is tair isteach abhaile," ar seisean.

Translation

There lived a man long ago and he had two sons. And the second son, he told his father to give him all that was coming to him. The father said that he would. He gave it to him and then went to a (...) outside. If he did, he didn't stop until he spent everything he had on drink and on women and on every bad thing.

He was cold and naked and without a stitch of clothing or a morsel to eat. And he had to tend pigs for a farmer and the farmer himself wasn't giving him anything. It wasn't long (?) (...) the pig's food (...) plenty to eat and drink and he didn't have likewise.

A thought struck him one day and he said that his his own father's servants had plenty food and drink while he himself was cold and naked and half-fasting. He went to the house and his father thought that he had died (...) before that because he hadn't been outside (?). To look for any stories or reports from him was not his greatest concern.

The father saw him coming towards the house and if he did he went to him and hugged him and welcomed the son. "A hundred welcomes, son," he said. "I thought you were in the grave long ago," he said.

"I am not worthy of being welcomed so warmly, father," he said, "because I came to you wretchedly," he said, "worse than when I left," he said. "I spent my share wrongly," he said, "and if I had a hold of it now I wouldn't do it," he said.

"Ah, son," said the father, he said. "Good in the face of evil. And good is he who will think of... Even now is a good time to think of God," he said. He called on one of his servants and he told the servant to go and bring him a suit of clothes from top to toe. He put it on him and a golden ring on his finger. And he said... He ordered the servant to go and to kill the fattened calf in his honour, that he would eat enough of it because it looked like it had been a long time since he ate enough.

When that was done he carried him in with him. And when he had eaten and drunk his fill music was played in his honour.

And the older brother was coming towards the house when he heard the music and he called a servant. He asked the servant the reason for all of this music inside. "Your brother," he said, "who came home. And he is being honoured. So much so," he said, "the fattened calf was killed for him," he said.

"Well, damn my father (?)," he said. "It is many the hard day I myself have given," he said, "always," he said, "with sweat and toil," he said. "He didn't kill a fattened calf or a bullock for me," he said, "more(?) than the blackguard," he said, "who spent his share on whores," he said. "He was the same as me," he said. "I will never again go (...)."

The father heard what was happening and he wondered why his son wasn't coming in and he went out. "Son," he said, "why don't you come in?"

"I won't come, father," he said, "because you never made the fuss for me that you are making for that blackguard," he said, "even though I have given you many hard days."

"Don't mind that, son," he said. "He is my son of course," he said. "It is good in the face of evil (?)," he said. "That will not leave you without your own share," he said, "and come in home," he said.

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.