Literal Translation of the Poems
You have slain a hundred armed men.
For you the noble dog has torn (them) in pieces.
Your tale is stubborn and a cause of strife.
It is a fore-token of tears in dreadful manner.
Sorrowful is my knowledge of you,
while I shed tears and lament.
Dear were it for me to go with you
and to be burnt to ashes.
You were the fairest troop in Ireland.
Young men of Connaught, I lament you,
Each who has killed you, he is not stately,
I see . . .
Great was your host in war
against the Fomorians.
Many women are there who will cry "uch" and "ach"
behind the very proud.
Proudly you came into the house;
you had no vassal for father.
Since you had accepted the privilege of the chiefs
it was not suitable for you to fly!
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