Sa bhfásach ársa isteach i gcríoch iarthar na hÉireann, bhí an geimhreadh i mbuaicbriocht.

In the ancient wilderness of western Éireann, winter was at its peak.

Bhí Siobhan ar ais tar éis blianta fada imithe.

Siobhan was back after many years away.

Bhí an t-aer fuar, ach bhí teas an chroí ag cur fáilte roimpi.

The air was cold, but the warmth of the heart welcomed her.

Bhí na crainn ársa clúdaithe le caonach glas.

The ancient trees were covered with green moss.

Bhí an talamh faoi bhrat de dhuilleoga mín.

The ground was blanketed with fine leaves.

Bhí solas éadrom ag scagadh anuas tríd na géaga ard, ag cruthú saintwfois.

Soft light sifted down through the high branches, creating a magical atmosphere.

I measc an áilleacht seo, bhí Fergus ag fanacht.

Amidst this beauty, Fergus was waiting.

Dath donn ar a shúile, cosúlacht na chróca íonachta ann.

His eyes were brown, holding the purity of a crocus.

Bhí a chroí lán le háthas agus imní.

His heart was full of joy and anxiety.

Bhí a dheirfiúr abhaile.

His sister was home.

Ach céard a thóg sí léi?

But what did she bring with her?

Bhí Siobhan siúlóid léi féin, a croí trom le machnamh.

Siobhan was walking alone, her heart heavy with reflection.

Bhí sé blianta ó ól sí uisce na baile, ó mhothaigh sí an fhréamh domhain ina hanam.

It had been years since she had drunk the water of home, since she had felt the deep roots in her soul.

Bhí sí in easnamh áite ar bith ach sa bhaile.

She missed nowhere but home.

Ní raibh aon tinneas cos seachas an tinneas baile, an tiomáint siar isteach.

There was no longing other than homesickness, the drive back in.

Bhí Fergus istigh i dtóin an fhéilire, dírithe ina dhualgais.

Fergus was deep in the calendar, focused on his duties.

Cheana féin a réidhú don Imbolc, rith sé síos na cosáin ar a raibh sé ina mháistir.

Already preparing for Imbolc, he ran down the paths where he was a master.

Cosa ar an talamh, d’aontódh sé an t-áras le cuid den fhearann an spleáchas ach a bhí air.

Feet on the ground, he agreed with the domain to share the dependence that was upon him.

Tháinig na deartháireacha le chéile sa lár na coille, áit a d’eagraigh siad an searmanas Imbolc gach bliain — beochan na solais i ndubh an ama.

The siblings met in the middle of the forest, where they organized the Imbolc ceremony every year — enlivening the light in the darkness of the season.

Labhair siad go ciúin ar dtús, an ceann ina choinleach ar a dhomhain, ag fiafraí gan cheist á dhéanamh.

They spoke quietly at first, each head in their own thoughts, asking without making a question.

"Fáiltím," arsa Fergus go craosach.

"Welcome," said Fergus earnestly.

"Ach tá faitíos orm, Siobhan.

"But I fear, Siobhan.

Tá eagla orm go sásóidh tú do fonn trínnni h-éirí.

I am afraid that you will satisfy your longing through parting from us again."

""Is í mo thír seo freisin," d'fhreagair Siobhan.

"This is my country too," replied Siobhan.

"In áit éigin, tá meas ar mo shlí ar athfhás.

"Somewhere, my path respects regrowth."

"Agus an am casta ag teacht, dhírigh siad a mbriathra.

As the significant time approached, they focused their words.

Thóg Siobhan píosa páipéir as a mála.

Siobhan took a piece of paper from her bag.

An scríobh is measa a bhí ann, ach ar chlóbhraigh sí na suimeanna de thíortha i gcóngar.

Her writing was the worst, yet she listed the names of countries nearby.

"Déanaim gealltanas," a léi.

"I promise," she said.

"Fillim arís, agus roinnim na scéalta.

"I return again, and I share the stories.

Tabharfaidh mé an domhan abhaile.

I will bring the world home."

"Ní raibh focail ag Fergus ach deora solais a ghlac sí.

Fergus had no words but accepted her promise with tears of light.

Bhí gach ráthaíocht trí chlannacht.

All assurance was through kinship.

Bhí galchorn na n-éiginnte á chailliúint faoina údar.

The fog of uncertainty was losing its hold under her influence.

Agus dhóigh siad an brae suas i ndorchacht, i gcruinne de chuma iontach, sraonadh siar chin túasa.

And they kindled the hearth in the darkness, in a remarkable universe, stepping back to their beginnings.

Le linn na nóibhachta, bhí a n-adiiúl ag dul i bhfiúisce go mhisteach ag tuiscint nach díol na huaire ar do rogha, ach an solas i gcroílár an tuiscéann féin.

During the fresh start, their understanding began to bloom distinctively, realizing not to sell the moment for choice, but to embrace the light at the heart of their consciousness.

Ag Imbolc, dhúisigh an chéad mhachnamh — isnár ghnómhaíocht féin, gheall siobhan am a thógáil, agus b'in mar a d'fhás com-páirt dearfach.

At Imbolc, the first reflection awoke — in their own endeavors, Siobhan promised to take time, and thus a positive partnership grew.

Bhíobh a súil thainscothe mar bábóg ar iasacht sa haonrú — agus bhí a ngrá dílis gan teorann.

Her gaze as profound as a borrowed doll in isolation — and their love remained boundless.

Mar sin, idir fiafraí agus freagraí, d'fhill an geasa nach n-eisiodh an talamh ós a gcionn, ach comhréireacht údóin.

Thus, between questions and answers, the land's enchantment returned above them, but in harmonious continuity.

Tar éis na féile, rinne siad siúl ar ais, ar aghaidh, fós ar mbarr an doimhneacht, tharla gur moch d'aoibhneacht bhuan.

After the festival, they walked back, forward, still atop the depth, realizing it was a dawn of lasting joy.