Bhí an séasúr ag bláthú i mBhaile Átha Cliath.

The season was blooming in Baile Átha Cliath.

Crann soilse ag glinne, gealsholas Nollaig ag spalpadh ar fud an bhaile.

Lights on trees were glistening, with Christmas lights sparkling all over the city.

Sa phub cluthar ar Shráid Camden, bhí cairtchluiche ar siúl nach raibh ach do na cinnireachtaí.

In the cozy pub on Sráid Camden, a card game was underway, reserved only for the bold.

San áit seo, chaith luchtaí te ola an teallach scáthánchbhraon don atmaisféar a bhí ag feargal an chluiche.

In this place, the warmth of the fireplace mirrored the tense atmosphere of the game.

Ag an mbord, shuigh Saoirse.

At the table sat Saoirse.

Bhean a raibh cáil uirthi i measc poker.

A woman known in the world of poker.

Bíodh áfach a stair, bhí dáiríreacht ina súile.

Despite her history, there was seriousness in her eyes.

Bhí sí ansin le cleidhm a réiteach a dhéanfaí a saol féin a chur ar foluain.

She was there to resolve a strategy that would lift her own life.

Ar a taobh eile, Fionn.

Opposite her was Fionn.

Fionn le croí gléasta ag cruinneas a charachtar.

Fionn with a heart dressed in the precision of his character.

Ba é seo a chéad uair ag imirt sa bhuncra ard-stáca ach bhí sé faoi bhrú.

It was his first time playing in the high-stakes bunker, but he felt the pressure.

Teastaíonn uaidh an t-airgead le cabhair a thabhairt dá chlann atá ag cailleadh a dteach.

He needed the money to help his family who were losing their home.

Bhí an dá thaobh tuisceanach faoina rud eigin lena chéile.

Both sides understood something about each other.

Ach tá riachtanais níos mó ag an gcluiche seo ach bréag chomhartha.

But this game required more than a bluff.

Nuair a léigh Saoirse an bhoird, bhí sí féin cinnte go raibh Fionn i ngleic le foghlaim.

When Saoirse read the board, she was convinced that Fionn was struggling to learn.

Bhí an t-áit balbh de cheithre ochras.

The place was silent with tension.

Bhí deargadh ar a n-aghaidheanna agus boladh an tae te dhearg an núis le cluasa.

Their faces flushed, and the smell of the hot tea was a nuisance to the ears.

Bhí ortha éileamh a dhéanamh - dul ar fad isteach.

They each had to make a claim - go all-in.

Bhí ceisteanna ag fás i gcroí Fhionn.

Questions grew in Fionn's heart.

An raibh dul amú i bhfianaise Saoirse aici?

Was Saoirse bluffing?

Bhí a intinn ag mamrala.

His mind was a jumble.

Ach chonaic sé an sciorradh de árasáin a bhí i súile Saoirse.

But he saw the flicker of resignation in Saoirse's eyes.

Rud éigin a chuir síos air go mbeadh sí ag cur pléasctha.

Something told him she would explode.

Líon Fionn a chroí le misneach, aghadar é féin inniu a thástáil.

Fionn filled his heart with courage, prepared to test himself today.

Bhí gach duine ag súil, bhí an t-aer trom le súil is eagla.

Everyone awaited with anticipation, the air thick with hope and fear.

"All-in," arsa Saoirse go socair, buinéireacht ag an toirt.

"All-in," said Saoirse calmly, asserting her decision.

Sétar isteach.

She was all in.

D'iarr seisean, ní bhíonn bréag níos macánta ná é seo ag an mbord.

His thoughts raced, there was no truth more honest on the table than this.

Bhí feidhm ag formhór na gcairteacha.

The cards remained still.

Taobh a bhaile, bhí súile folamh ag sleamhnú timpeall.

Around, empty eyes drifted.

Dá dheoin bhéadh orthu pasán nó pasála.

They would either embrace or concede.

Bhí croí Fhionn oscailte tar éis é a fheiceáil.

Fionn's heart was open after seeing it.

Cúnta seachmaill tug cléibheach an mbairce.

A deceptive relief swelled in the stakes of the game.

Bhí Saoirse i bhféighleasach ar ceist éigin: féach nú isteach.

Saoirse was contemplating something: look deeper within.

Os comhair an sluach an ciún, dorcha slioganta i BFionn.

Facing the crowd, dark and brooding was Fionn.

Lig sé anáil amach ionaid, géilleadh ar deireadh.

He exhaled slowly, finally conceding.

Fidil Saoirse a cártaí.

Saoirse revealed her cards.

"Seachníonn," arsa í, na cártaí gan locht.

"Fold," she said, the cards flawless.

Bhí crith sleamhain chuile chroí san antráth.

Every heart trembled with the unexpectedness.

Bhí orthu an cluiche a thabhairt cothrom arís.

They had to reset the game.

Súchadh guthanna sádh le brón.

Voices muffled with sorrow.

Ach ní dhíomhouint a mhothú i gcroí San Saoirse.

But Saoirse felt no regret in her heart.

Chonaic sí Fionn, cuimhnigh sí a staraí féin.

She saw Fionn, remembered her own past.

“Seo é,” ar sí, tabhairt lámh dó le cuid áiréitigh.

"There it is," she said, extending a hand to offer help.

“Tá sé níos fearr cabhair a thabhairt.

"It’s better to offer assistance."

”Bhí aoibh fírinneach ag Fionn.

Fionn wore a genuine smile.

Bhí sé corraitheach, ach tuisceannach.

It was thrilling, yet understanding.

San Nollaig i mBhaile Átha Cliath, bhris saoirse agus altrúnacht i bhfad níos mó nál ús a thabhairt suas.

This Christmas in Baile Átha Cliath, freedom and kindness outweighed any profit.

Chré, bhí aicmeach ag na spéirscéalta sin.

Indeed, these were stories of elegance.

Bhí faoiseamh agus maitheas in ionad aithrí croíthe.

Relief and goodness replaced the repentance of hearts.