Lyrics Julie Fowlis – An Roghain Dain Do Eimhir XXII (The Choice)

Choisich mi cuide ri mo thuigse
a-muigh ri taobh a’ chuain;
bha sinn còmhla ach bha ise
a’ fuireach tiotan bhuam.

An sin thionndaidh i ag ràdha:
A bheil e fìor gun cual
thu gu bheil do ghaol geal àlainn
a’ pòsadh tràth Diluain?

Bhac mi ‘n cridhe bha ‘g èirigh
‘nam bhroilleach reubte luath
is thubhairt mi: Tha mi cinnteach;
carson bu bhreug e bhuam?

Ciamar a smaoinichinn gun glacainn
an rionnag leugach òir,
gum beirinn oirre ‘s gun cuirinn i
gu ciallach ‘na mo phòc?

Cha d’ ghabh mise bàs croinn-ceusaidh
an èiginn chruaidh na Spàinn
is ciamar sin bhiodh dùil agam
ri aon duais ùir an dàin?

Cha do lean mi ach an t-slighe chrìon
bheag ìosal thioram thlàth,
is ciamar sin a choinnichinn
ri beithir-theine ghràidh?

Ach nan robh ‘n roghainn rithist dhomh
‘s mi ‘m sheasamh air an àird,
leumainn à neamh no iutharna
le spiorad ‘s cridhe slàn.

Translation:
I walked with my reason

Then it turned saying:
is it true you heard
that your beautiful white love
is getting married early on Monday?

I checked the heart that was rising
in my torn swift breast
and I said: most likely;
why should I lie about it?

How should I think that I would grab
the radiant golden star,
that I would catch it and put it
prudently in my pocket

I did not take a cross’s death
in the hard extremity of Spain
and how then should I expect
the one new prize of fate?

I followed only a way
that was small, mean, low, dry, lukewarm,
and how then should I meet
the thunderbolt of love?

But if I had the choice again
and stood on that headland,
I would leap from heaven or hell
with a whole spirit and heart.