I lár na ngleann ag Glendalough, bhí an t-earrach ag teacht i bhláth lán-dathanna.

In the heart of the valleys at Glendalough, spring was coming into full bloom of colors.

Lean coillte séana as an tor torthúil, áit ina raibh Niamh agus Cormac ag obair.

Ancient forests stretched from the fruitful land, where Niamh and Cormac were working.

Bhí cruthanna na ndíon clocha ag síneadh suas i gcoinne na hoíche, mar fhrámanna maorga a d’inis scéalta faoi thréimhsí imithe.

The shapes of stone roofs reached up against the night, like majestic frames that told stories of bygone eras.

Bhí Niamh agus Cormac sáite i ngnáthlá sa tochailt seandálaíochta, ag súil le faoinscéalta ón tsean-am.

Niamh and Cormac were engrossed in an ordinary day at the archaeological dig, hoping for insights from ancient times.

Bhí Niamh tiomanta, ach scáth amhras ag cur isteach uirthi ó thaobh a gairmréis.

Niamh was dedicated but beset by doubts about her career.

Ní raibh sé i ndán di aon rud níos mó ná uair iontas a chur ar a comhghleacaithe nó scamall an éiginnteachta a scaipeadh.

It seemed her destiny was nothing more than to amaze her colleagues momentarily or to dispel the cloud of uncertainty.

Bhí Cormac, ina luí ar pháirc na mistéire, ag iompar scéalta faoin tseanghlóir Cheilteach agus Lá Bealtaine.

Cormac, lying on the mysterious field, bore stories of the old Celtic lore and Lá Bealtaine.

Bhí fuinneamh bolscaireach aige nach bhféadfadh aon rud a chur as a riocht, agus imreoir bog ar rópa leanúna.

He possessed a compelling energy that nothing could disturb, smoothly dancing on the tightrope of curiosity.

Ar maidin Lá Bealtaine, tharla rud anaithnid.

On the morning of Lá Bealtaine, something unknown happened.

Sa chruinniú leis na hoibrithe, ní raibh Cormac le feiceáil.

During the meeting with the workers, Cormac was nowhere to be seen.

Le háit uaigneach agus gaoitheadh ag croí choinne, thosaigh Niamh ag cuardach.

With a lonely place and windy heart, Niamh began to search.

Níl ann ach léirsiú é.

It was just a phenomenon.

Scéalta a bhí le feiceáil i litir a bhí fágtha ina dhiaidh.

Stories could be seen in a letter he had left behind.

Cluichí focal, comharthaí ag taispeáint síos rúin.

Word games, symbols revealing secrets.

Bhí sí idir dhá thine Bhealtaine.

She was caught between two fires of May.

Níor chreid sí san osnádúr, ach bhí aislingí ag rith le hantaisceolaíocht.

She didn't believe in the supernatural, yet dreams were streaming with anti-science.

Thosaigh sí ag leanúint na lorg.

She started following the trail.

Bhí sí sásta éirí as an méid a shíleadh a bheith fíor agus téigh chun cinn tríd an amhras fuarchúiseach.

She was willing to abandon what she believed to be true and push through the cold skepticism.

Bhí an raic ag éirí níos géire gach nóiméad.

The commotion was growing more intense with each moment.

Faoi dheireadh, i gcroílár na bhfothrach, d'oscail Niamh doras nach raibh ar aon léarscáil.

Finally, in the heart of the ruins, Niamh opened a door that was on no map.

Bhí sí i mbéal lãn suimiúil.

She stood at the threshold of an intriguing realm.

Bhí solas bán ag soilsiú ar bhoinn a gcoimeádta ag soiscéalta agus ársaíochtaí.

A white light was shining on preserved scrolls and antiquities.

Bhí Cormac i lár achair draíochtúil.

Cormac was at the center of a magical expanse.

Bhí sé slán agus ar ais, ag féachaint go dícheallach ar athshamhlú Bhealtaine.

He was safe and back, eagerly contemplating the reenactment of Bealtaine.

Bhí feiceál ar na déantáin a bhí Cormac ag seasamh—earraí a léirigh gníomhaíochtaí ócáideacha, ag baint scéal as osréire.

Artifacts Cormac was amidst were visible—objects that spoke of leisurely activities, extracting stories from the surreal.

Bhí draíocht fós ann, ach d'fhoghlaim Niamh nach raibh sé de dhíth di cuir as don amhras dáiríre.

Magic was still there, but Niamh learned that she no longer needed to let skepticism get the better of her.

Trasnaigh an bord, roinn siad mear - meas nua ar a chéile.

Across the table, they shared a newfound appreciation for one another.

Tháinig Niamh amach slán óna turas, leis an eagnaí réiteach idir réaltacht agus draíocht.

Niamh emerged safely from her journey, with the wisdom to find harmony between reality and magic.

Bhí siad sásta imeacht ón suíomh, ag tuiscint nach raibh an t-artaicáil, ná an scéalaíocht, ná béaloideas ina chéilerann.

They left the site gladly, understanding that neither the artifact, nor storytelling, nor folklore alone was sufficient.

Ag an deireanach, d'fhoghlaim Cormac níos mó faoi fírinne na seandálaíochta, agus bhí sé saor d'áiteachas an fhóilltinis.

In the end, Cormac learned more about the truth of archaeology, and he was freed from the mirage of idleness.

Sa ghlanadh, tá oscailteacht i scéal an fir is an mná ag titim isteach sa slán soilseach geal.

Amidst clarity, there's an openness in the story of the man and the woman, falling into a bright and illuminating peace.

An fhírinne?

The truth?

Bhí sí i dtaithí ar am, eagnaíocht foghlamtha ag misneach an croí.

It resided in time, wisdom learned through the courage of the heart.

Le chéile, rinne siad slán.

Together, they found completion.