Bhí an ghaoth fhuar ag séideadh go lagach thar na cnocáin ag Newgrange, áit a raibh Saoirse agus Cormac ina seasamh.

The cold wind was gently blowing over the hills at Newgrange, where Saoirse and Cormac were standing.

Bhí siad ag fanacht leis an grian ag éirí.

They were waiting for the sun to rise.

Bhí Saoirse lán de spéis agus sceitimíní.

Saoirse was full of interest and excitement.

Bhí sí ag tnúth leis an nóiméad a mbeadh solas na gréine ag dul isteach sa tuama.

She was looking forward to the moment when the sunlight would enter the tomb.

“Tá draíocht sa timpeall,” a dúirt Saoirse, a shúile ag scannradh le háthas.

“There’s magic in the air,” said Saoirse, her eyes sparkling with joy.

“Draíocht, an ea?” a dúirt Cormac, ag tarraingt a seaicéad níos cóngaraí chuige.

“Magic, is it?” said Cormac, pulling his jacket closer to himself.

“Níl mé cinnte faoi sin. Tá an aimsir fhuar!”

“I’m not sure about that. The weather is cold!”

Bhí siad ann mar chuid de chomóradh Samhain.

They were there as part of the Samhain celebration.

Is é an t-am stáiriúil nuair a chríochnaigh an Fómhar agus thosaigh an Geimhreadh.

It is the historic time when Autumn ended and Winter began.

Le chèile sheas said, iad ag faire ar an spéir lofhata.

Together they stood, watching the overcast sky.

Thosaigh an grian ag teacht.

The sun started to come up.

Bhí an áit ciúin, gan ach fuaim na gaoithe timpeall orthu.

The place was quiet, with only the sound of the wind around them.

Bhí Saoirse ag cuimhneamh ar a muintir.

Saoirse was thinking about her family.

Gur rachaidh said thar na céadta blianta féachaint ar an féile seo.

How they had come over the centuries to see this festival.

Cheap sí ar an stair a bhí le feiceáil timpeall orthu.

She thought about the history visible around them.

Cén tromchúis a bhí ann, bhí sí ag smaoineamh.

“What significance there is,” she thought.

"Is féidir linn a bheith mar chuid den stair."

"Is féidir linn a bheith mar chuid den stair."

D’fhan Cormac fós cúramach.

Cormac remained cautious.

“Ná bí ag brionglóid. Tá an aimsir fuar,” a dúirt sé arís, ag croitheadh a chinn.

“Don’t be dreaming. The weather is cold,” he said again, shaking his head.

Ach, leis an ngealltanas solais ar an spéir, tháinig an grian amach.

But with the promise of light in the sky, the sun came out.

Bhí spás san aer.

There was a tension in the air.

An solas Bhí sé ag dul isteach sa tuama.

The light began entering the tomb.

Scéal na n-aoiseanna.

The story of the ages.

Chruthaigh sé bolg i seomra dorcha an tuama.

It created a belly in the dark room of the tomb.

Is cosúil go raibh an solas ag cuardach iad féin.

It was as if the light was searching for them.

Bhí an seomra lán de sholas ag an nóiméad seo.

At that moment, the room was filled with light.

Tháinig ciúnas ollmhór ar an áit.

A great silence came over the place.

Bhí radharc áille ann.

It was a beautiful sight.

Cormac, a bhí fós fós, sheas sé ina stuamas.

Cormac, who was still standing, stood in awe.

Bhreathnaigh sé ar mibhe.

He looked at the vision.

D'fhéach sé ar nullaing Bhaile Átha Cliath go leor agus chonaic sé, b'fhéidir den chéad uair, féachaint ar cé mhéid den stair a bhí ann.

He looked around Dublin quite a lot and for the first time saw how much history there was.

“Maith thú, Saoirse,” a dúirt sé, iarmholadh ina ghuth.

“Well done, Saoirse,” he said, admiration in his voice.

“Níor thuig mé cé comh álainn atá sé seo.”

“I didn’t realize how beautiful this is.”

Sheas siad le chéile, ag caitheamh níos mó solas ar an stair, anois níos doimhne sa spiorad na tuige.

They stood together, shedding more light on history, now deeper in the spirit of understanding.

Tuig Cormac go raibh an stair ina ciorcal mór, a bhí ina leithid d'eólach agus anáil ann.

Cormac realized that history was a great circle, something so familiar and breathing.

Bhí Saoirse lán d'áthas.

Saoirse was full of joy.

Bhí a brionglóid slánaithe.

Her dream was fulfilled.

Bhí lámha trasna orthu nuair a bhreathnaigh siad an deireadh le solas na gréine.

Their hands crossed as they watched the end with the sunlight.

Ag imeacht, mothaigh siad athrú sa ghaoth.

As they departed, they felt a change in the wind.

Bhí sé bog, níos teo beagán b’fhéidir.

It was soft, a bit warmer perhaps.

Bhí an stair mar chuid di agus d'fhan sí ansin go deo.

The history was a part of it and stayed there forever.

I gcóngar an dorcha, i dteocht an oíche, d'fhill a spiorad slán.

In the closeness of the dark, in the temperature of the night, their spirit returned intact.

Agus Cormac, ní raibh sé amhrasach a thuilleadh.

And Cormac, he was no longer doubtful.

Sa dorchla beag seo, tháinig sé níos gaire dá stair féin.

In this little passage, he came closer to his own history.