Bhí an tEarrach ina hiomlán, agus bhí na cúirteanna dronuilleogacha an dúlra ag geadaigh go láidir ar an gcósta iartharach.

Spring was in full bloom, and the natural rectangular courts were buzzing strongly on the western coast.

Bhí Siobhán, múinteoir introspective, saor ar feadh seachtain, éalú isteach i mbóithre casta Chathair Bhaile Átha Cliath taobh thiar di agus a súil á rialú ag an wildness timpeall uirthi.

Siobhán, an introspective teacher, was free for a week, escaping into the tangled roads of Cathair Bhaile Átha Cliath behind her, with her eyes guided by the wildness around her.

Bhí spiorad agus tráthnóna nua á lorg aici feadh Bealach an Atlantaigh Fhiáin, ag éalú ón dhrochrud a d'fhág di.

She sought fresh inspiration and new evenings along the Bealach an Atlantaigh Fhiáin, escaping from what had left her troubled.

Lá aimsir cinniúnach a bhí ann ar a thuras le ciúnas thréigthe an solas geal Fómhair san aer.

It was a fateful day on her journey, with the abandoned silence of the bright autumn light in the air.

Bhí sí ar a bealach go dtí na hAillte Mhothair, na beanna a d’ardaigh go h-aerlíne os cionn na farraige fiáin.

She was on her way to the Aillte Mhothair, the peaks that rose skyward over the wild sea.

Cruthaíonn an aimsir feile, le bláthanna ag tosnú, sa dhúiche álainn seo.

The weather suited the scene, with flowers beginning to bloom in this beautiful region.

Bhí grian an Earraigh ag giorradh a cosán agus bhí sruth de stró usice ar siúil, ag leathnú an tírdhreacha le meath của.

The spring sun guided her path, and there was a stream of water currents extending the landscape with a gentle decay.

Siobhán bhí bugged le hamhras.

Siobhán was bugged by doubts.

Bhí bliain dhian caite aici.

She had spent a difficult year.

Gach dara uair thiomáin sí, balltted sí idir cheist pearsanta agus samhlaíocht dúise.

Every other hour she drove, she vacillated between personal questions and vivid imaginations.

Bhraitheann sí nach raibh sí ag déanamh an ceart i phléasc véarsa eile.

She felt she wasn't doing the right thing in breaking through another verse.

Mothú meirgeach, braith sí idir caibheiríocht agus neamhchinnteacht.

Feeling rusty, she wavered between courage and uncertainty.

Ach uaireanta ba iad na laethanta is fearr na laethanta a bhí le chéile i ngan fhios.

Yet sometimes the best days were those that came together unknowingly.

Thiomáin sí tríd saillte buíocán, lonróga d'fhonn gorm, áit ar tháinig olaí belt-eile i luí róinte ar barr an uisce, chosna an Aillte Mhothair in áit na mishásta d'anam í féin.

She drove through the yellow gorse, shimmering of blue hues, where oilí belt-eile lay resting atop the water, keeping the Aillte Mhothair as a solace for her soul.

Bhí sí ag cuimsiú a n-athrú ag Beltane.

She was embracing their transformation at Beltane.

Bhí club áirithe ann, bainte le réaltra na oíche.

There was a certain club associated with the night's galaxy.

Ag Dánlann na hAillte, chonaic Siobhán na réaltaí gearrtha i dtine mhara, lena sléibhte beaga de leathanach geal.

At the Dánlann na hAillte (Cliffs Gallery), Siobhán saw the stars etched in the sea fire with their small mountains of bright page.

Féile Bhéaltaine!

Féile Bhéaltaine!

An oíche á alast trí pháirteanna de Bhean Aoibhinn: splanc saorshár a d'éirigh suas agus a raibh an t-siúcra ar an gcoill.

The night ignited through parts of the beautiful woman: a flash of freedom that rose up with the sweetness of the forest.

Bhí na haillte beoga le clubanna agus láithreáin traidisiúnta, daoine i gculaith shéasúirialect.

The cliffs were lively with clubs and traditional sites, people in seasonal attire.

Thaistil Eoghan agus Caomhhe, áitritheoirí áitiúla a tháinig i gcéill, síniú glam leis an eachtra.

Eoghan and Caomhhe, local residents who had come to their senses, added their vibrant sign to the occasion.

Chlóis an fuaim gárach, tite le ceol traidisiúnta a raibh gach ceann den fuil ar foluain is fite.

She heard the cheerful sound, filled with traditional music where each pulse of the blood was swirling and interwoven.

Rinne sí cinneadh páirt a ghlacadh ann, in ainneoin gur mhothaigh sí ar imeall ag dul ar aghaidh.

She decided to take part, even though she felt on the edge of involvement.

Lucht Caomhhe agus Eoghan a thabhairt de ghaoth nua na réalachta aici.

The company of Caomhhe and Eoghan brought a new breeze of reality to her.

Ag am an ghorm, bhí boladh comhbhrúigh ag scamaill ná go raibh an Aimsir scartha, sciath amháin ag trasghabháil.

At the time of the blue, there was a compressed scent in the clouds as the weather separated, one screen traversing.

Ardaigh sé de thine mír sin, cruthaíodh líocha sconna drámatáil ar an díon go réidh, agus groíonna forleathan at each.

It rose with a kindling, creating dramatic shades on the roof gently, and expansive groins mounted easily.

An raibh a ciorcal fite, ag nádúr, bhí a éireochaig na deireannaí, dheonaithe bailte atá ann chomh maith.

Was her circle woven by nature, rising to its extremes, granted towns existed as well.

Bhí sí ag breathnú amach, radharc breac ar fán, thuigeann si go raibh sí nasctha leis an áilleacht timpeall uirthi.

She was looking out, a speckled view on the slope, understanding that she was connected to the beauty surrounding her.

Mhaisigh an chuid uachtaraithe na hala, ag druidim go tiubh, leathrannadh solas nó cumadh sin.

The upper portion adorned the wools, drawing thickly, extending light or forming substance.

Chonaic sí spréilgeill, mothúcháin, bís a tiocfadh chun cinn san am sin.

She saw a sparkle of emotions, anticipation that would emerge over time.

Bhí sí buaite ag na h-athrátha, ar nós fiacla an toghairm a bhí tiomáint í athraithe.

She was won over by the repetitions, like the teeth of destiny driving her transformation.

D’fhág an féile óchdánach lena corrailt, ag insint líníocht réalta a aimseofar ina anam arís.

The festive commotion left her stirred, narrating the stellar drawing that would be found in her soul again.

Ghabh sí araon le dearlaic ag titim síos asáit ann: bunaithe, ceol á lité an tionscnamh nua a bheadh ar fáil ag an mbrón traidisiúnta agus chruthaithe an tseanchais.

She captured both with sketches falling out of place: founded, music carrying the initiation of the new that would be available with the traditional sorrow and the creation of old tales.

Agus mar a chuaigh Siobhán trasna an ceo, phéinteáil sí áilleacht insint as balla, suí sí fuinneog leach i scéal, lean spré mbraitheann ceann soláthar.

And as Siobhán crossed the mist, she painted the beauty narrated from a wall, sat by a window nook in the story, continued the sparks that lit her spirit.

Bhí iarrann ann sin, go raibh sí ar an áit cheart, tiomána an in-spioráid a bhí aige teacht.

There was a request in that, that she was in the right place, driving the inspiration that he had come to.

Ba cainníocha do stíl beagánacha a bheadh ann feasta, ag an bpunann taobh ar a haréirí úire.

There were quantities for little style pieces that would exist from now on, with the portfolio side on her newfound energy.

Bhain sí amach a dteach luchtach, ag tabhairt faoi ní hamhras ná cruth a bheith á chur uirthí — lasair foi an inspioráid.

She reached her bustling home, with no doubt or form being placed on her—lighting under the flame of inspiration.

Bhí sí.

She was.