AN CAT AGUS AN GHEALACH

02.06.2015 Translation Category Theatre Language: Irish

Author: Gabriel Rosenstock

The Cat and the Moon

1926

to John Masefield

Persons in the Play

A Blind Beggar

A Lame Beggar

Three Musicians

Scene. – The scene is any bare place before a wall against which stands a patterned screen, or hangs a patterned curtain suggesting Saint Colman’s Well. Three Musicains are sitting close to the wall, with zither, drum, and flute. Their faces are made up to resemble masks.

First Musician [singing].

The cat went here and there

And the moon spun round like a top,

And the nearest kin of the moon,

The creeping cat, looked up.

Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,

For, wander and wail as he would,

The pure cold light in the sky

Troubled his animal blood.

[Two beggars enter – a blind man with a lame man on his back. They wear grotesque masks. The

Blind Beggar is counting the paces.

Blind Beggar. One thousand and six, one thousand and

seven, one thousand and nine. Look well now, for

we should be in sight of the holy well of Saint

Colman. The beggar at the crosroads said it was

one thousand paces from where he stood and a few

paces over. Look well now, can you see the big as

tree that’s abouve it?

Lame Beggar [getting down]. No, not yet.

Blind Beggar. Then we must have taken a wrong turn;

flighty you always were, and maybe before the day

is over you will have me drowned in Kiltartan River

or maybe in the sea itself.

Lame Beggar. I have brought you the right way, but

you are a lazy man, Blind Man, and you make very

short strides.

Blind Beggar. It’s great daring you have, and how could

I make a long stride and you on my back from the

peep o’day?

Lame Beggar. And maybe the beggar of the cross-roads

was only making it up when he said a thousand

paces and a few paces more. You and I, being beggars,

know the way of beggars, and maybe he never paced

it at all, being a lazy man.

Blind Beggar. Get up. It’s too much talk you have.

Lame Beggar [getting up]. But as I was saying he being a

lazy man – O, O, O, stop pinching the calf of my

leg and I’ll not say another word till I’m spoke to.

[They go round the stage once, moving to drum-taps, and as they move the following song is sung.]

First Musician [singing]

Minnaloushe runs in the grass

Lifting his delicate feet

Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?

When two close kindred meet

What better than call a dance?

Maybe the moon may learn,

Tired of that courtly fashion,

A new dance turn.

Blind Beggar. Do you see the big ash-tree?

Lame Beggar. I do then, and the wall under it, and the

flat stone, and the things upon the stone; and here

is a good dry place to kneel in.

Blind Beggar. You may get down so. [Lame beggar gets

down.] I begin to have it in my mind that I am a

great fool, and it was you who egged me on with

your flighty talk.

Lame Beggar. How should you be a great fool to ask the

saint to give you back your two eyes?

Blind Beggar. There is many gives money to a blind

man and would give nothing but a curse to a whole

man, and if it was not for one thing – but no matter

anyway.

Lame Beggar. If I speak out all that’s in my mind you

won’t take a blow at me at all?

Blind Beggar. I will not this time.

Lame Beggar. Then I’ll tell you why you are not a great

fool. When you go out to pick up a chicken, or

maybe a stray goose on the road, or a cabbage from

a neighbour’s garden, I have to go riding on your

back; and if I want a goose, or a chicken, or a

cabbage, I must have your two legs under me.

Blind Beggar. That’s true now and if we were whole

men and went different ways, there’d be as much

again between us.

Lame Beggar. And your own goods keep going from

you because you are blind.

Blind Beggar. Rogues and thieves ye all are, but there

are some I may have my eyes on yet.

Lame Beggar. Because there’s no one to see a man slip-

-ping in at the door, or throwing a leg over the wall

of a yard, you are a bitter temptation to many a

poor man, and I say it’s not right, it’s not right at

all. There are poor men that because you are blind

will be delayed in Purgatory.

Blind Beggar. Though you are a rogue, Lame Man,

maybe you are in the right.

Lame Beggar. And maybe we’ll see the blessed saint this

day, for there’s an odd one sees him, and maybe that

will be a grander thing than having my two legs,

though legs are a grand thing.

Blind Beggar. You’re getting flighty again, Lame Man;

what could be better for you than to have your two

legs?

Lame Beggar. Do you think now will the saint put an

ear on him at all, and we without an Ave or a Pater-

noster to put before the prayer or after the prayer?

Blind Beggar. Wise though you are and flighty though

you are, and you throwing eyes to the right of you

and eyes to the left of you, there’s many a thing you

don’t know about the heart of man.

Lame Beggar. But is stands to reason that he’d be put

out and he maybe with a great liking for the Latin.

Blind Beggar. I have it in mind that the saint will be

better pleased at us not knowing a prayer at all, and

that we had best say what we want in plain language.

What pleasure can he have in all that holy company

kneeling at his well on holidays and Sundays, and

they as innocent maybe as himself?

Lame Beggar. That’s a strange thing to say, and do you

say it as I or another might say it, or as a blind man?

Blind Beggar. I say it as a blind man, I say it because

since I went blind in the tenth year of my age, I have

been hearing and remembering the knowledges of

the world.

Lame Beggar. And you who are a blind man say that

a saint, and he living in a pure well of water, would

soonest be talking with a sinful man.

Blind Beggar. Do you mind what the beggar told you

about the holy man in the big house at Laban?

Lame Beggar. Nothing stays in my head, Blind Man.

Blind Beggar. What does he do but go knocking about

the roads with an old lecher from the county of

Mayo, and he a woman-hater from the day of his

birth! And what do they talk of by candle-light and

by daylight? The old lecher does be telling over all

the sins he committed, or maybe he never committed

at all, and the man of Laban does be trying to head

him off and quiet him down that he may quit

telling them.

Lame Beggar. We have great wisdom between us, that’s

certain.

Blind Beggar. Now the Church says that it is a good

thought, and a sweet thought, and a comfortable

thought, that every man may have a saint to look

after him, and I, being blind, give it out to all the

world that the bigger the sinner the better pleased

is the saint. I am sure and certain that Saint Colman

would not have us two different from what we are.

Lame Beggar. I’ll not give in to that, for as I was saying,

he has a great liking maybe for the Latin.

Blind Beggar. Is it contradicting me you are? Are you

in reach of my arm? [swinging stick].

Lame Beggar. I’m not, Blind Man, you couldn’t touch

me at all; but as I was saying –

First Musician [speaking]. Will you be cured or will you

be blessed?

Lame Beggar. Lord save us, that is the saint’s voice and

we not on our knees. [They kneel.

Blind Beggar. Is he standing before us, Lame Man?

Lame Beggar. I cannot see him at all. It is in the ash-tree

he is, or up in the air.

First Musician. Will you be cured or will you be

blessed?

Lame Beggar. There he is again.

Blind Beggar. I’ll be cured of my blindness.

First Musician. I am a saint and lonely. Will you be-

come blessed and stay blind and we will be together

always?

Blind Beggar. No, no, your Reverence, if I have to

choose, I’ll have the sight of my two eyes, for those

that have their sight are always stealing my things

and telling me lies, and some maybe that are near

me. So don’t take it bad of me, Holy Man, that I

ask the sight of my two eyes.

Lame Beggar. No one robs him and no one tells him

lies; it’s all in his head, it is. He’s had his tongue on

me all day because he thinks I stole a sheep of his.

Blind Beggar. It was the feel of his sheepskin coat put

it into my had, but my sheep was black, they say,

and he tells me, Holy Man, that his sheepskin is of

the most lovely white wool so that it is a joy to be

looking at it.

First Musician. Lame Man, will you be cured or will

you be blessed?

Lame Beggar. What would it be like to be blessed?

First Musician. You would be of the kin of the blessed

saints and of the martyrs.

Lame Beggar. Is it true now that they have a book and

that they write the names of the blessed in that

book?

First Musician. Many a time I have seen the book, and

your name would be in it.

Lame Beggar. It would be a grand thing to have two legs

under me, but I have it in my mind that it would be

a grander thing to have my name in that book.

First Musician. It would be a grander thing.

Lame Beggar. I will stay lame, Holy Man, and I will be

blessed.

First Musician. In the name of the Father, the Son and

the Holy Spirit I give this Blind Man sight and I

make this Lame Man blessed.

Blind Beggar. I see it all now, the blue sky and the big

ash-tree and the well and the flat stone, – all as I

have heard the people say – and the things the pray-

ing people put on the stone, the beads and the

candles and the leaves torn out of prayer-books, and

the hairpins and the buttons. It is a great sight and

a blessed sight, but I don’t see yourself, Holy Man

– is it up in the big tree you are?

Lame Beggar. Why, there he is in front of you and he

laughing out of his wrinkled face.

Blind Beggar. Where, where?

Lame Beggar. Why, there, between you and the ash-tree.

Blind Beggar. There’s nobody there – you’re at your lies

again.

Lame Beggar. I am blessed, and that is why I can see the

holy saint.

Blind Beggar. But if I don’t see the saint, there’s some-

thing else I can see.

Lame Beggar. The blue sky and green leaves are a great

sight, and a strange sight to one that has been long

blind.

Blind Beggar. There is a stranger sight than that, and

that is the skin of my own black sheep on your back.

Lame Beggar. Haven’t I been telling you from the peep

o’day that my sheepskin is that white it would

dazzle you?

Blind Beggar. Are you so swept with words that

you’ve never thought that when I had my own two

eyes, I’d see what coulour was on it?

Lame Beggar [very dejected]. I never thought of that.

Blind Beggar. Are you that flighty?

Lame Beggar. I am that flighty. [Cheering up.] But am I

not blessed, and it’s a sin to speak against the

blessed?

Blind Beggar. Well, I’ll speak against the blessed, and

I’ll tell you something more that I’ll do. All the

while you were telling me how, if I had my two

eyes, I could pick up a chicken here and a goose

there, while my neighbours were in bed, do you

know what I was thinking?

Lame Beggar. Some wicked blind man’s thought.

Blind Beggar. It was, and it’s not gone from me yet. I

was saying to myself, I have a long arm and a strong

arm and a very weighty arm, and when I get my own

two eyes I shall know where to hit.

Lame Beggar. Don’t lay a hand on me. Forty years we’ve

been knocking about the roads together, and I

wouldn’t have you bring your soul into mortal peril.

Blind Beggar. I have been saying to myself, I shall know

where to hit and how to hit and who to hit.

Lame Beggar. Do you know that I am blessed?

Would you be as bad as Caesar and as Herod and

Nero and the other wicked emperors of antiquity?

Blind Beggar. Where’ll I hit him, for the love of God,

where’ll I hit him?

[Blind Beggar beats Lame Beggar. The beating takes the form of a dance and is accompanied

on drum and flute. The Blind Beggar goes out.

Lame Beggar. That is a soul lost, Holy Man.

First Musician: Maybe so.

Lame Beggar. I’d better be going, Holy Man, for he’ll

rouse the whole country against me.

First Musician. He’ll do that.

Lame Beggar. And I have it in my mind not even

myself again with the martyrs, and the holy con-

fessors, till I am more used to being blessed.

First Musician. Bend your back.

Lame Beggar. What for, Holy Man?

First Musician. That I may get up on it.

Lame Beggar. But my lame legs would never bear the

weight of you.

First Musician. I’m up now.

Lame Beggar. I don’t feel you at all.

First Musician: I don’t weigh more than a grasshopper.

Lame Beggar. You do not.

First Musician. Are you happy?

Lame Beggar. I would be if I was right sure I was

blessed

First Musician. Haven’t you got me for a friend?

Lame Beggar: I have so.

First Musician. Then you’re blessed.

Lame Beggar. Will you see that they put my name in

the book?

First Musician. I will then.

Lame Beggar. Let us be going, Holy Man.

First Musician. But you must bless the road.

Lame Beggar. I haven’t the right words.

First Musician. What do you want words for? Bow to

what is before you, bow to what is behind you, bow

to what is to the left of you, bow to what is to the

right of you. [The Lame Beggar begins to bow.

First Musician. That’s no good.

Lame Beggar. No good, Holy Man?

First Musician. No good at all. You must dance.

Lame Beggar. But how can I dance? Ain’t I a lame man?

First Musician. Aren’t you blessed?

Lame Beggar. Maybe so.

First Musician. Aren’t you a miracle?

Lame Beggar. I am, Holy Man.

First Musician. Then dance, and that’ll be a miracle.

[The Lame Beggar begins to dance, at first clumsily, moving about with his stick, then he throws away the stick and dances more and more quickly. Whenever he strikes the ground strongly with his lame foot the cymbals clash. He goes out dancing, after which follows the First Musician’s song.

First Musician [singing]

Minnaloushe creeps through the grass

From moonlit place to place.

The sacred moon overhead

Has taken a new phase.

Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils

Will pass from change to change,

And that from round to crescent,

From crescent to round they range?

Minnaloushe creeps through the grass

Alone, important and wise,

And lifts to the changing moon

His changing eyes.

The End

AN CAT AGUS AN GHEALACH

W. B. YEATS

do John Masefield

PEARSANA SA DRÁMA

Bochtán Dall

Bochtán Bacach

Triúr Ceoltóirí

RADHARC – Áit lom ar bith atá sa radharc agus balla sa chúlra, scáthlán gréasta ina choinne nó cuirtín gréasta ar crochadh a chuireann Tobar Naomh Colmán in iúl. Tá triúr Ceoltóirí ina suí gar don bhalla, le siotar, druma agus fliúit. Tá a n-aghaidh maisithe chun maisc a chur in iúl.

An Chéad Cheoltóir [ag canadh]

Thall is abhus chuaigh an cat

Is an ghealach ag casadh mar chaiseal,

Is an gaol ba ghaire leis an ngealach

An cat ciúin d’fhéach in airde.

Mín na Luch dubh ag stánadh ar an ngealach

Ar fán is ag caoineachán dó

An solas glan fuar sa spéir

An fhuil ann do chuir ag coipeadh

[Isteach le beirt bhochtán – fear dall agus fear bacach ar a dhroim. Tá masc anchúinseach orthu beirt. Na coiscéimeanna á gcomhaireamh ag an mBochtán Dall

BOCHTÁN DALL. Míle is a sé, míle is a seacht, míle is a naoi. Bí ag faire amach anois mar ba chóir go mbeadh radharc againn láithreach ar thobar beannaithe Naomh Colmán. Dúirt bochtán an chrosbhóthair linn gur míle coiscéim ón áit a raibh sé féin ina sheasamh a bheadh sé, is cúpla coiscéim lena chois. Féach go géar anois, an bhfeiceann tú an fhuinseog mhór atá os a chionn?

BOCHTÁN BACACH [ag teacht anuas]. Ní fheicim go fóill í.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Chuamar amú mar sin ní foláir; bhís riamh guagach, agus b’fhéidir sula mbeidh an lá seo thart go mbáfar in Abhainn Chill Tartan mé nó san fharraige féin, seans.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Thógamar an bóthar ceart ach is leisceoir thú, a Dhaill, agus ní rómhaith i mbun coisíochta thú.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Nach tú atá sotalach nó conas a bheinn go maith i mbun coisíochta agus tusa ar mo dhroim ó ghiolc an ghealbhain?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Agus b’fhéidir gur á chumadh a bhí bochtán an chrosbhóthair nuair a luaigh sé míle coiscéim agus cúpla ceann eile lena chois. Mé féin is tú féin is bochtáin sinn, agus tuigeann Tadhg Taidhgín, agus b’fhéidir nár shiúil sé in aon chor é mar is leisceoir cruthanta é.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Suas leat. Tá an iomarca cainte agat.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. [ag dul suas ar a dhroim] Ach faoi mar a bhíos dá rá, ós leisceoir é – Ó, Ó, Ó, stop, ná bain liomóg as mo cholpa agus ní osclóidh mé mo bhéal arís go labhrófar liom.

[Timpeall an stáitse uair amháin leo, ag bogadh de réir cnag ar an druma agus cantar an t-amhrán seo agus iad ag bogadh.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR [ag canadh].

Mín na Luch ag rith sa bhféar

A chosa míne aige á n-ardú

An ag rince ataoi, a Mhín na Luch, arú?

Nuair a bhuaileann neasghaolta le chéile

Ní fearr rud a dhéanamh ná damhsa.

Is go bhfoghlaimeodh an ghealach steip nua

Is í bréan d’fhaisean na cúirte.

BOCHTÁN DALL. An bhfeiceann tú an fhuinseog ard?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Feicim ambaist, agus an falla faoina bun, agus an leac, is na nithe sin go léir ar an leac; agus tá áit mhaith thirim anseo chun dul ar ár nglúine ann.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Tar anuas mar sin. [Síos leis an mBochtán Bacach.] Táim tagtha ar an dtuairim gur amadán mór atá ionam agus gur tusa a ghriog mé led chaint aerach.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Conas a bheifeá i d’amadán mór is tú tagtha anseo chun iarraidh ar an naomh do dhá shúil a thabhairt ar ais duit?

BOCHTÁN DALL. Is iomaí duine a thabharfadh déirc don dall nach dtabharfadh ach mallacht don bhfear slán, agus munar rud amháin é is . . . ach is cuma ar aon slí.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Má nochtaim a bhfuil ar m’aigne ní tharraingeoidh tú dorn orm?

BOCHTÁN DALL. Ní tharraingeoidh, an uair seo.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Neosfaidh mé duit mar sin cén fáth nach amadán mór atá ionat. Nuair a théann tú amach chun sicín a phiocadh suas, nó gé a bheadh ar strae ar an mbóthar, nó dos cabáiste ó gharraí na gcomharsan, ní mór domsa marcaíocht ar do dhroim; agus má tá gé uaimse, nó sicín, nó dos cabáiste, ní mór dom do dhá chos a bheith fúm.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Tá an méid sin fíor go deimhin agus dá mbeimis slán agus dá n-imeoimis ár mbealach féin, bheadh an méid céanna arís eadrainn.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Agus imíonn do chuid earraí féin uait mar gur caoch atá tú.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Rógairí is gadaithe sibh go léir ach beidh mo shúil ar chuid agaibh fós.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Mar nach bhfuil éinne ann chun duine a fheiceáil ag sleamhnú an doras isteach, nó cos á caitheamh thar fhalla an chlóis aige, is tusa a thugann go leor fear bocht i gcathú géar, agus deirimse nach bhfuil sé ceart, níl sé ceart in aon chor. Tá bochtáin ann agus toisc tusa a bheith dall, cuirfear moill sa Phurgadóir orthu.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Bíodh is gur rógaire thú, a Bhacaigh, seans go bhfuil an ceart agat.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Is n’fheadar ná go bhfaighimis radharc ar an naomh beannaithe inniu, mar feiceann corrdhuine é, agus d’fhéadfadh go mb’fhearr é sin ná dhá chos a bheith fúm, bíodh is gur breá iad na cosa mar sin féin.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Is ag éirí guagach arís atá tú, a Bhacaigh; cad d’fhéadfadh a bheith níos fearr ná do dhá chos féin a bheith agat?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. An gcuirfidh an naomh cluas air féin in aon chor an dóigh leat agus sinne gan Áivé ná an tÁr nAthair againn le cur roimh nó i ndiaidh na paidre?

BOCHTÁN DALL. Más guagach thú agus más gaoismhear, súil siar agat agus súil soir, is iomaí rud faoi chroí an duine nach bhfuil ar eolas agat.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Ach luíonn sé le réasún go ngoillfeadh sé air agus é an-cheanúil ar an Laidin is dócha.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Táim den tuairim gur níos sásta a bheadh sé linn is gan aon phaidir ar eolas againn agus gur fearr a bhfuil le rá againn a chur in iúl dó go lom. Cén pléisiúr a thabharfadh sé dó agus an bhaicle naofa sin go léir ar a nglúine ag an tobar, laethanta saoire is Dé Domhnaigh, agus iad chomh suáilceach leis féin b’fhéidir?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Is ait an rud é sin le rá agus an bhfuil tú á rá mar a déarfainnse é nó duine ar bith eile, nó mar dhall?

BOCHTÁN DALL. Mar dhall atáim á rá, agus táim á rá mar ó buaileadh dall mé in aois mo dheich mbliana dom táim ag éisteacht le gaois an tsaoil agus á meabhrú.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Agus i do dhall duit tá tú á rá go mb’fhearr leis an naomh, agus cónaí air i dtobar fíoruisce, go mb’fhearr leis comhluadar an pheacaigh.

BOCHTÁN DALL. An cuimhin leat cad dúirt an bochtán leat faoin bhfear naofa i dteach mór an Lábáin?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Ní fhanann faic im cheannsa, a Dhaill.

BACACH DALL. Cad a dhein sé ach an bóthar a bhualadh, é féin agus drúiseach fir ó Chontae Mhaigh Eo, agus gráin aige ar na mná ó rugadh é an fear céanna! Agus cén comhrá a bhí eatarthu faoi sholas coinnle is faoi sholas an lae? A chuid peacaí go léir á n-insint ag fear na drúise, má b’iad a pheacaí féin iad sa chéad áit, agus fear an Lábáin ag iarraidh teacht roimhe is é a shuaimhniú i dtreo is go n-éireodh sé as.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Ag iarraidh é a thiontú a bhí sé b’fhéidir.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Dá mba dhall a bhí ionat ní bheadh rud amaideach mar sin ráite agat. Ní bheadh sé aon bhealach eile aige, ní bheadh, dá bhfaigheadh sé Éire. Murach é a bheith mar a bhí, cad a bheadh mar ábhar cainte acu, an bhfreagrófá an méid sin anois dom?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Nach eadrainn atá an ghaois mhór, níl aon dabht ann.

BOCHTÁN DALL.’ Sé deir an Eaglais gur smaoineamh maith mín milis é naomh da chuid féin a bheith ag gach neach chun aire a thabhairt do agus fógraímse, im dhall dom, don saol mór ar fad, dá mhéad de pheacach thú is ea is sásta a bheadh an naomh. Táim suite deimhneach de nár mhaith le Naomh Colmán a mhalairt cló a bheith orainn.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Ní ghéillfinn duit mar, faoi mar a bhíos á rá, seans go bhfuil sé an-cheanúil ar an Laidin.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Ag cur im choinne ab ea? An i raon mo láimhe atá tú? (maide á luascadh aige).

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Ní hea, a Dhaill, ní baol dom thú; ach faoi mar a bhíos a rá –

AN CHÉÁD CHEOLTÓIR [ag caint]. An leigheas nó beannacht atá uait?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Go sábhála Dia sinn, guth an naoimh is gan sinn ar ár nglúine.

[Ar a nglúine leo.

BOCHTÁN DALL. An ina sheasamh os ár gcomhair atá sé, a Dhaill?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Níl radharc agam air. Sa bhfuinseog atá sé nó in airde san aer.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. An leigheas nó beannacht atá uait?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Sin é arís é.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Leigheas agus deireadh le daille.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Naomh mé agus mé atá uaigneach. An nglacfá le beannacht uaim, fanacht i do dhall is beimid le chéile go deo?

BOCHTÁN DALL. Ní hea, ní hea, a Athair, má tá rogha agam, radharc na súl a bheidh agam, mar iad siúd a bhfuil radharc acu is ag goid uaim a bhíonn siad is ag insint bréag, cuid acu seans atá gar dom. Mar sin, gabh agam, a Dhuine Naofa, má iarraim radharc na súl ort.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Ní bhíonn éinne á robáil agus ní bhíonn éinne ag insint bréag dó; ina cheann atá sé, ar fad. Tá leadhbairt mhaith den teanga faighte inniu agam uaidh mar gur dóigh leis gur ghoideas caora uaidh.

BOCHTÁN DALL. An cóta de chraiceann caorach a chuir im cheann mé, ach is dubh a bhí mo chaorasa, deirtear, agus deir seisean, a Dhuine Naofa, gur d’olann bhán ghleoite an cóta aige agus gur breá ar fad a bheith ag féachaint air.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. An leigheas nó beannacht atá uait, a Bhacaigh?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Conas a bheadh sé a bheith beannaithe?

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Gaolta a bheifeá ansin leis na naoimh bheannaithe is leis na mairtírigh.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. An fíor go bhfuil leabhar acu agus go mbreactar ainmneacha na ndaoine beannaithe sa leabhar sin?

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Is minic a chonaic mé an leabhar sin, agus bheadh d’ainmse ann.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Ba bhreá an ní é dhá chos a bheith fúm, ach deinim amach go mba bhreátha fós é m’ainm a bheith sa leabhar sin.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Ba bhreátha mhuise.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Fanfad im bhacach, a Dhuine Naofa, agus glacfad led bheannacht.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. In ainm an Athar, an Mhic agus an Spioraid Naoimh, tugaimse radharc don Dall seo agus mo bheannacht ar an mBacach.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Feicim é go léir anois, an spéir ghorm agus an fhuinseog mhór agus an leac – díreach mar atá curtha síos ag na daoine orthu – agus na rudaí a fhágann lucht urnaí ar an leac, na paidríní agus na coinnle agus na leathanaigh a stróiceadh as na leabhair urnaithe, agus na bioráin ghruaige is na cnaipí. Is iontach an radharc é agus is beannaithe an radharc é, ach ní fheicimse tusa, a Dhuine Naofa – an in airde sa chrann atá tú?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Dhera, féach romhat é agus straois ar a aghaidh rocach.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Cén áit, cén áit?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Idir tú agus an fhuinseog, airiú.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Níl éinne ann – ag insint bréag arís atá tú.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Táimse beannaithe agus sin an fáth a bhfuil radharc ar an naomh beannaithe agam.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Mura bhfuil radharc agam ar an naomh, tá radharc ar a lán eile agam.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Is éachtach an feic iad an spéir ghorm agus na duilleoga glasa, agus is aisteach, don té a bhí dall le fada.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Agus radharc níos aistí fós, mo chaora dhubh ar do dhroim.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Nach bhfuilim á rá leat ó d’éirigh an ghrian thoir go bhfuil an craiceann caorach seo agamsa chomh geal sin go ndallfadh sé thú!

BOCHTÁN DALL. An é go bhfuil tú chomh tógtha sin le do bhriathra féin gur shíl tú nuair a bheadh mo dhá shúil féin agam nach n-aithneoinn dath an chraicinn sin?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. [in ísle brí]. Níor smaoiníos riamh air sin.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Tá tú chomh guagach sin?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Táim chomh guagach sin. [Ag éirí meanmnach]. Ach nach bhfuilim beannaithe, agus nach peaca é caitheamh anuas ar dhaoine beannaithe?

BOCHTÁN DALL. Bhuel, caithfidh mise anuas orthu agus an bhfuil a fhios agat cad eile a dhéanfaidh mé? Le linn duit a bheith á rá liom dá mbeadh mo dhá shúil agam go bhféadfainn sicín a phiocadh suas thall nó gé abhus, agus mo chomharsana ina luí sa leaba, an bhfuil fhios agat cad a bhí ag dul trí m’intinn?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Na drochsmaointe a bhíonn ag daill?

BOCHTÁN DALL. Díreach é agus tá na smaointe sin fós ann. ’Sé bhí á rá agam liom féin ná gur agamsa atá an ghéag fhada agus is géag láidir í agus tathag inti agus nuair a bheidh mo dhá shúil féin agam, aithneoidh mé an sprioc a bheadh le bualadh.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Ná leag lámh orm. Táimid ar an mbóthar le chéile le dhá scór bliain anuas agus níor mhaith liom go gcuirfeá d’anam i mbaol.

BOCHTÁN DALL. Mé a rá liom féin, beidh a fhios agam cá mbuailfidh mé, conas a bhuailfidh mé agus cé a bhuailfidh mé.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Nach bhfuil a fhios agat go bhfuilimse beannaithe? An dteastaíonn uait a bheith chomh holc le Caesar, Héaród is Néaró is na drochimpirí eile a bhí ann fadó?

BOCHTÁN DALL. Cá mbuailfidh mé é, i gcuntais Dé, cá mbuailfidh mé é?

[Buaileann an Bochtán Dall an Bochtán Bacach. I bhfoirm damhsa a dhéantar sin le tionlacan druma agus fliúite. Téann an Bochtán Dall amach.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Anam é siúd a cailleadh, a Dhuine Naofa.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. B’fhéidir é.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. B’fhearr dom a bheith ag piocadh liom mar cuirfidh sé an tír go léir ag éirí amach i mo choinne.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Chuirfeadh mhuise.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Agus tá ar intinn agam gan mé féin a chur i dteannta na mairtíreach is na n-oidí faoistine arís go dtí go mbeidh níos mó taithí agam ar an mbeannaitheacht.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Crom síos.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Cad i gcomhair, a Dhuine Naofa?

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Chun go raghainn in airde ar do dhroim.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Ach ní fhulaingeodh na cosa bacacha seo do mheáchansa go deo.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Táim in airde anois.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Ní mhothaím in aon chor thú.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Meáchan an phíobaire fhraoigh atá ionam.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Is fíor duit.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Bhfuil tú sona?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Bheinn sona dá mbeinn cinnte go rabhas beannaithe.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Nach bhfuil mise mar chara agat?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Tá san.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Tá tú beannaithe mar sin.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Féach chuige go mbeidh m’ainm sa leabhar.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Féachfad ambaist.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Buailimis bóthar, a Dhuine Naofa.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Ach caithfidh tusa an bóthar a bheannú.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Níl na focail agam chuige.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Cad ab áil leat le focail? Sléacht roimh an ní atá romhat, sléacht roimh an ní atá id dhiaidh, sléacht roimh an ní atá ar chlé, sléacht roimh an ní atá ar dheis. [Tosaíonn an Bochtán Bacach ag sléachtadh

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓÍR. Ní haon mhaith é sin.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Ní haon mhaith é, a Dhuine Naofa?

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Ní haon mhaith in aon chor é. Caithfidh tú damhsa a dhéanamh.

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Conas a dhéanfainnse damhsa? Nach bacach mé?

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Nach bhfuil tú beannaithe?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Is dócha go bhfuil.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Nach míorúilt atá ionat?

BOCHTÁN BACACH. Sea, a Dhuine Naofa.

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR. Déan damhsa mar sin agus míorúilt a bheidh ansin.

[Tosaíonn an Bochtán Bacach ag damhsa, go hamscaí ar dtús, ag bogadh thart lena mhaide, caitheann sé uaidh an maide ansin agus déanann damhsa níos gasta. Nuair a bhuaileann sé an talamh go tréan lena chos bhacach cloistear na ciombail. Amach leis is é ag damhsa agus ansin canann an Chéad Cheoltóir amhrán

AN CHÉAD CHEOLTÓIR [ag canadh].

Gabhann Mín na Luch ar snámh tríd an bhféar

ó áit ó háit faoi sholas na ré

an ré bheannaithe thuas sa spéir

tá glactha aici le nua-chéim.

An eol do Mhín na Luch

go n-athróidh a shúile nuair a athróidh an ré,

cruinn tamall is ansin corrán

corrán caol go cruinn arís?

Gabhann Mín na Luch ar snámh tríd an bhféar

leis féin, postúil, lán de ghaois

is ardaíonn go dtí an ré os a chionn

na súile aige ó aois go haois.

A CHRÍOCH .

Translation
PDF