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 out beside the sea. We were together but it was keeping a little distance from me.

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.