Fadó, ach ní ró-fhada, bhí fear darbh ainm Eamon ina chónaí i gcontae Chiarraí, ar fheirm bhláthanna.

Once upon a time, but not too long ago, there was a man named Eamon living in County Kerry, on a flower farm.

Cé nach raibh an geimhreadh lán de bhláthanna, bhí áilleacht faoi shimplíocht na páirceanna liatha faoin spéir liath.

Although winter wasn't full of flowers, there was a beauty in the simplicity of the grey fields under the grey sky.

Bhí Eamon ag pleanáil rud speisialta do Lá Fhéile Vailintín.

Eamon was planning something special for Valentine's Day.

Bhí sé i ngrá le cailín darb ainm Aoife.

He was in love with a girl named Aoife.

Bhí Aoife álainn agus cineálta, agus bhí sí ag obair leis ar an bhfeirm.

Aoife was beautiful and kind, and she was working with him on the farm.

Ba é a mian é a mhothúcháin i leith Aoife a léiriú ar bhealach a bheadh i gcuimhne di.

It was his wish to express his feelings for Aoife in a way that she would remember.

Lá amháin, rinne Eamon plean.

One day, Eamon made a plan.

Bhí Liam, a chara, sásta cabhrú leis.

Liam, his friend, was willing to help him.

Bhí a fhios ag Liam go maith cé chomh tábhachtach is a bhí sé do Eamon.

Liam knew well how important it was to Eamon.

Chuir sé na brioscaí agus an seacláid te i gcoimeádán.

He packed the cookies and hot chocolate in a container.

Ach bhí an aimsir sa gheimhreadh míshuaimhneach.

But the winter weather was unpredictable.

Bhí na scamaill dhorcha ag teacht isteach.

The dark clouds were rolling in.

Bhí faitíos ar Eamon go gcuirfeadh an báisteach isteach ar a phleananna.

Eamon was afraid that the rain would ruin his plans.

Ach d'fhoghlaim sé riamh go raibh áilleacht i ngníomhartha simplí.

But he had learned that there is beauty in simple acts.

Níor chúl sé siar.

He did not back down.

Bhí an t-am ann.

The time had come.

Ghlac sé le Aoife ag bun an chnoic.

He met Aoife at the bottom of the hill.

"Cad faoin aimsir?

"What about the weather?"

" a d'fhiafraigh Aoife, beagán amhras uirthi.

Aoife asked, a little doubtfully.

Ach d'fhéach Eamon lena scíth, ag aoibh gháire.

But Eamon appeared relaxed, smiling.

"Déanaimid an lá ina mbíonn sé," arsa sé le meangadh.

"We make the day what it is," he said with a grin.

Thosaigh siad ag dreapadh an chnoic, bugaithe ag an aer úr, ag comhrá agus ag gáire.

They began climbing the hill, invigorated by the fresh air, chatting and laughing.

Shroich siad barr na cnoc.

They reached the top of the hill.

Bhí an radharc os cionn na páirceanna ina lóistín ciúin de scáthanna geimhridh.

The view over the fields was a serene retreat of winter shades.

Ach ansin, thosaigh drúcht ag titim, níos troime agus níos fuaire.

But then, dew started falling, heavier and colder.

Bhí sé deacair fanacht tirim.

It was hard to stay dry.

Thuig Eamon go raibh a nóiméad ann.

Eamon realized it was his moment.

Tharraing sé sean-bhrat amach as a mhála.

He pulled an old blanket out of his bag.

Bhí Aoife ag gáire faoin suaitheadh agus an Sean-bhrat orainn ar na clúdaigh.

Aoife laughed about the commotion and the old blanket on the covers.

Nuair a bhí an brat curtha suas, léirigh Eamon litir ó láimh scríofa a bhí ag fanacht leis.

When the blanket was spread out, Eamon presented a handwritten letter that he had been holding onto.

Léigh Aoife í go cúramach.

Aoife read it carefully.

Bhí sí mar dhearbhú lásanta dúinn a grá.

It was a passionate declaration of his love.

Bhí Aoife sásta.

Aoife was happy.

Gan focal, lean sí ar aghaidh agus thug barróg mór dó.

Without a word, she leaned over and gave him a big hug.

Bhí an báisteach ar siúl orthu, ach faoin mbrat, bhí siad sábháilte.

The rain poured on them, but under the blanket, they were safe.

Tháinig póg milis, ach ó chroí as seo amach.

A sweet kiss came, genuine from that moment on.

Thuig Eamon ansin gurb iad na chuimhneacháin ghaoil simplí an rún fíor do ghrá.

Eamon then understood that simple moments of connection are the true secret to love.

Bhí an ghrianghraf den oíche sin i gcuimhne ag Aoife agus Eamon, ní mar gheall ar a raibh beartaithe, ach mar gheall ar nádúr an ghrá féin.

The memory of that night remained with Aoife and Eamon, not because of what was planned, but because of the nature of love itself.

Agus b’fhearr sin ná aon dearbhú móra.

And that was better than any grand declarations.

Thug an geimhreadh a saol féin, agus bhí grá Eamon agus Aoife fíor, bídís le chéile faoin spéir is gorma nó faoin gcuimreach is liath.

The winter had its own life, and Eamon and Aoife's love was true, whether they were together under the bluest sky or the greyest cover.

Bhí an grá, tar éis an tsaoil, ina fad aonair don grá diaga.

After all, love was a journey meant solely for divine affection.