Tras-scríbhinn

D'ordaigh an t-oifigeach a'n[1] lá amháin a pháirtí 'un ' tseápail[2]. Nuair a chuaigh an ministir isteach agus thoisigh sé ar an tsoiscéal, achan nduine[3] dá rabh leabhar urnaí nó cineál ar bith urnaí Bíobla acu tharraing siad amach iad. Ach bhí saighdiúir ann agus cha rabh dadaí aigesan ach chuir sé a lámh isteach ina phóca agus tharraing sé amach paca cárdaí agus thoisigh sé ag amharc orthu a réir ceann agus ceann. Chonaic an t-oifigeach é agus tháinig sé 'uige.

"(A Thuathail)," a deir sé, "fág uad[4] na cárdaí sin," a deir sé. "Chan áit ar bith seo dófa."

"Ná bac leis sin," a deir an saighdiúir, a deir sé. "Níl dadaí agad[5] le déanamh liomsa anseo."

Ach nuair a bhí achan chineál thart agus fuaigh siad amach 'na sráide tháinig an t-oifigeach 'uig an tsaighdiúir seo, agus deir sé leis, "(A) ógánaigh," a deir sé, "tá tú ina phríosúnach[6] agam."

"Cad chuige?" a deir an saighdiúir, a deir sé. "Goidé atá déanta agam go mbeinn 'na phríosúnach agad?"

"D'imir tú geám[7] cárdaí insa tseápal."

"Ó, maise, níor imir," a deir an saighdiúir, a deir sé. "Ní dtear'[8] mé ach gur amharc mé ar an phaca."

"Is cuma fá sin anois," a deir sé. "Tá tú ina phríosúnach."

"Agus cáit a gcaithfidh muid a choil[9]?" a deir an saighdiúir.

"Caithfidh tú ghoil roimhe[10] mhéara an bhaile mhóir."

Ach chuaigh siad. Agus nuair (a fuaigh siad a fhad le) teach an mhéara bhí sé ag a dhinnéara. Nuair a rinn sé a dhinnéara tháini' sé amach. "Bhuel," a deir sé leis an oifigeach, "goidé na gnoithe atá agad liom? Goidé na gnoithe atá agad liom?"

"Bhuel, le do thoil," a deir an t-oifigeach, "thug mé saighdiúir anseo roimhe d'onóir cionn a bheith ag imirt cárdaí insa tseápal."

"Ag imirt cárdaí sa tseápal?"

"Seaidh, maise."

"(...), ab é[11] sin an saighdiúir?"

"Sé."

"Bhuel," a deir sé (leis), "goidé atá agad le ráit ar do shon féin? Thá[12] dúil agam," a deir sé, "go bhfuil rud maith agus cuid mhaith de. Ná mur buil[13]," a deir sé, "gheo' tú an úsáid is measa a fuair a'n fhear ariamh."

"Bhuel," a deir an saighdiúir, "tá mé le cúig seachtain' ag goil thart agus níl a'n ghléas mór beo orm. Níl dadaí agam. Níl leabhar urnaí agam. Níl Bíobla agam. Níl dadaí agam ach paca cárdaí. Ach tá dúil agam go dtabharfaidh do onóir éisteacht domh insa rud atá (rún) agam a chur in do láthair."

Chuir sé a lámh isteach ina phóca is tharraing sé amach an paca cárdaí agus spréigh sé iad roimh an mhéara agus thoisigh sé leis an aon.

"Nuair a tchím an t-aon," a deir sé, "cuireann sé in mo cheann nach bhfuil ann ach a'n nDia amháin. Nuair a tchím an dó cuireann in mo cheann an tAthair agus an Mac. Nuair a tchím an trí cuireann sé in mo cheann an tAthair, an Mac agus an Spiorad Naomh. Nuair a tchím an ceathair cuireann sé in mo cheann na ceithre dhaoiní maithe a bhí ag spréadh an tsoiscéil fríd an tsaol, sin Mata, Marcas, Lúcás agus Eoin. Nuair a tchím an cúig cuireann sé in mo cheann na cúig mhaighdean uasal a bhí ag déanamh suas a gcuid solais. Nuair a tchím an sé cuireann sé in mo cheann gur in sé lá a rinn Dia neamh agus talamh. Nuair a tchím an seacht (cuimhním) go dtear' Dia a scríste agus go dtear' Sé an seachtú lá ina lá saoire. Nuair a tchím a hocht cuireann sé in mo cheann na hocht ndaoiní maithe a shábháil Dia nuair a chuir Sé an díle ar an tsaol, Noah, a bhean, a triúr mac agus a gcuid mná. Nuair a tchím an naoi cuireann sé in mo cheann na naoi ndaoiní a ghlan Dia ar an aicíd mhillteanach a bhí orthu, lioprasaí. Ach bhí deich gcloigne ann. Char phill a'n nduine acu ach a'n nduine amháin le buíochas a thabhairt dó. Char phill na naoi gcloigne ar chor ar bith. Ach nuair a tchím an deich cuireann sé in mo cheann na Deich nAithne a thug Dia do Mhaoise ar Chnoc Síneach ar an dá thábla cloch."

Bheir sé ar an chuilead agus chuir sé ar a'n taobh amháin í.

"Nuair a tchím an bhanríon[14] cuireann sé in mo cheann an bhanríon uasal a tháinig as an áit ab fhaide ar shiúl den tsaol le fiacháilt[15] a chur ar Rí Solomon ag déanamh amach go rabh sí féin ina bhean comh críonna agus a bhí seisean 'na fhear. Thug sí léithe deich gcloigne agus daichead gasúraí.

Aistriúchán

One day the officer ordered his company to church. When the minister went in and started on the gospel, everyone who had a prayer book or any kind of a Bible took them out. But there was a soldier there who didn't have anything and he put his hand in his pocket and he pulled out a pack of cards and he started looking at them one by one. The officer saw him and came up to him.

"Tuathal(?)," he said, "put away those cards," he said. "This is no place for them."

"Don't mind that," said the soldier. "You have nothing to do with me here."

But when everything was finished and they had gone out to the street the officer came to this soldier, and he said to him, "Young man," he said, "you are my prisoner."

"Why?" said the soldier. "What have I done that you would have me as a prisoner?"

"You played a game of cards in the church."

"Oh, indeed, I did not," said the soldier. "I did nothing but look at the pack."

"That dosen't matter now," he said. "You are a prisoner."

"And where do we have to go?" said the soldier.

"You must go before the town mayor."

Anyhow, they went. And when they reached the mayor's house he was having his dinner. When he finished his dinner he came out. "Well," he said to the officer, "what business have you with me? What business have you with me?"

"Well, if you please," said the officer, "I brought this soldier here before your honour for playing cards in church."

"Playing cards in church?"

"Yes, indeed."

"(...), is that the soldier?"

"It is."

"Well," he said to him, "what do you have to say for yourself? I hope," he said, "it's good and that there is plenty of it. For if there isn't," he said, "you will get the worst treatment any man ever got."

"Well," said the soldier, "I have been on the move for five weeks and I am in a bad way. I have nothing. I have no prayer book. I have no Bible. I have nothing but a pack of cards. But I hope your honour will give a hearing to the thing I wish(?) to put before you."

He put his hand in his pocket and he pulled out the pack of cards and he spread them in front of the mayor and he started with the one.

"When I see the one," he said, "it reminds me that there is only one God. When I see the two it reminds me of The Father and The Son. When I see the three it reminds me of The Father, The Son and The Holy Spirit. When I see the four it reminds me of the four good people who spread the gospel through the world, namely Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. When I see the five it reminds me of the five noble virgins who trimmed their lamps. When I see the six it reminds me that it was in six days that God made heaven and earth. When I see the seven it reminds me that God rested and made the seventh day a day of rest. When I see the eight it reminds me of the eight good people who God saved when he flooded the earth, Noah, his wife, their three sons and their wives. When I see the nine it reminds me of the nine people who God cured of the terrible disease that afflicted them, leprosy. But there were ten people. Only one returned to give thanks to Him. The nine people didn't return at all. When I see the ten it reminds me of the Ten Commandments God gave Moses on Mount Sinai on the two stone tablets."

He grabbed the knave and put it to one side.

"When I see the queen it reminds me of the noble queen who came from the farthest part of the world to impress upon King Solomon that she was as old a woman as he was a man. She brought with her fifty boys.

Fonótaí

Tráchtaireacht

Seo sampla neamhiomlán den scéal idirnáisiúnta bealoidis ATU 1613 Playing cards are my calendar and prayer book. Tugtar cuntas ann ar chás saighdiúra, a thugtar os comhair na n-údarás toisc gur imir sé cártaí i séipéal, agus a mhíníonn gur siombal ar phearsa nó ar choincheap reiligiúnach atá i ngach cárta. Féach Hans Jorg Uther, The types of international folktales: a classification and bibliography (3 iml., Helsinki, 2004). Feictear an scéal den chéad uair i leabhar mangaire Breatnaise a scríobh fear darbh ainm David Jones sa bhliain 1766. Féach Vilmos Voigt, 'Playing-cards are my calendar and prayer book', Acta Ethnographica Hungarica 44 (1999), 237-49: 237. Is cosúil go bhfuil an scéal le fáil go forleathan san Eoraip, ach ní cosúil go bhfuil sé an-choitianta in Éirinn, agus tá níos lú ná fiche sampla de sa Bhailiúchán Náisiúnta Béaloidis (Coláiste na hOllscoile, BÁC) agus i gcló. Féach Seán Ó Súilleabháin agus Rieder Th. Christiansen, The types of the Irish folktale (Helsinki, 1968). Ina theannta sin is féidir clárú a dhéanamh air mar shampla den mhóitíf idirnáisiúnta béaloidis H603 Symbolic interpretation of playing cards. Féach Stith Thompson, Motif-index of folk literature (atheagrán méadaithe, 6 iml., Bloomington, Ind., 1955-8).

Tá tras-scríobh ar an scéal seo leis in Róise Ní Bhaoill, Ulster Gaelic voices: bailiúchán Doegen 1931 (Béal Feirste, 2010), 106-13. Tá leagan eile in Nollaig Mac Congáil agus Ciarán Ó Duibhín, Glórtha ón tseanaimsir (Gleann an Iolair, 2009), 25-8.