Fadó, i lár an gheimhridh, bhí an lá fós agus fuar i bPáirc an Fhionnuisce i mBaile Átha Cliath.

Long ago, in the middle of winter, the day was still and cold in Páirc an Fhionnuisce in Baile Átha Cliath.

Bhí sneachta bog ag clúdach na gcrann ársa agus na ndeilbh stairiúla.

Soft snow covered the ancient trees and the historical statues.

Bhí an bhrídeog i gcroílár an tséasúir, ag tabhairt súil éadrom don Earraigh.

The dawn was at the heart of the season, giving a light glance toward spring.

Bhí Niamh ag rith trí na cosáin leathana, a cosa ag cur ceo éadrom san aer.

Niamh was running through the wide paths, her feet creating a light mist in the air.

Bhí sí ealaíontóir, ag lorg spreagtha le hathrú a dhéanamh ar a cuid oibre.

She was an artist, seeking inspiration to change her work.

Ach, bhraith sí faoi bhrú, neamhshruthánach.

But she felt pressured, uninspired.

Dhá uair sa tseachtain, d'athraigh sí a sceideal rith chun rud nua a fháil.

Twice a week, she changed her running schedule to find something new.

B'fhéidir, cheap sí, go dtiocfadh spark ó áit nach raibh siad ag súil leis.

Perhaps, she thought, a spark might come from an unexpected place.

Ar an taobh eile den pháirc, bhí Cian ag rith go tapaidh.

On the other side of the park, Cian was running quickly.

Fear gnó teicneolaíochta ab ea é, ag baint úsáid as a nós rith chun aigne a ghlanadh tar éis laethanta fada san oifig.

He was a tech businessman, using his running habit to clear his mind after long days at the office.

Bhí an sneachta ag titim timpeall air, ach níor chuir sé sin isteach air.

The snow was falling around him, but it didn't bother him.

Bhraith sé saor, ach mar a bheadh cadhnra.

He felt free, like a recharged battery.

Go tobann, ar choimeád cúinne cúpla céimeanna mí-shábháilte, bhuail Niamh agus Cian isteach lena chéile.

Suddenly, while taking a corner with a few unstable steps, Niamh and Cian collided with each other.

Stop an dá shaol.

Both worlds stopped.

D'fhéach siad ar a chéile, ionadh ar a n-aghaidheanna.

They looked at each other, surprise on their faces.

"Dia duit," a dúirt Cian, gáire beag ar a aghaidh.

"Hello," said Cian, with a small smile on his face.

Níorbh fhuirist Niamh a bheith feargach le súil gorm Cian agus spraoi ina shúile.

It wasn't easy for Niamh to be angry with Cian's blue eyes and the playfulness in them.

"Dia daoibh," arsa Niamh le gáire ainneoin í féin.

"Hello," Niamh replied, smiling despite herself.

Bhí rud éigin faoin nóiméad sin, nó an bealach a raibh na scáthanna ag damhsa ar na cosáin, a scaoil rud éigin taobh istigh di.

There was something about that moment, or the way the shadows were dancing on the paths, that released something inside her.

Thosaigh siad ag caint faoin bpáirc, faoin sneachta, agus faoi cé chomh hálainn is a bhí na teicstílí sna crainn.

They started talking about the park, the snow, and how beautiful the textures in the trees were.

D’ardaigh Niamh cloc beag sneachta, taispeáint don dromchla spréagúil, mar chaint na críche.

Niamh picked up a small snowball, showing its sparkling surface, as the conclusion of their conversation.

"Tá an teicneolaíocht domhanda, ach níl anseo ann chomh hálainn mar an ealaín nádúrtha seo," arsa Cian le meon machnaimh.

"Technology is global, but nothing here is as beautiful as this natural art," said Cian thoughtfully.

Bhí Niamh faoi dhraíocht.

Niamh was enchanted.

Seo é an rud a theastaigh uaithi.

This was what she needed.

Tuiscint úr, spreagtha ó rialtacht úr.

A fresh understanding, inspired by a new routine.

Thug na haistear simplí seo a hintinn ar ais chun beatha.

This simple journey brought her mind back to life.

Tar éis nóiméad nó dhó, d'aontaigh siad bualadh arís an tseachtain dár gcionn.

After a moment or two, they agreed to meet again the following week.

Bhí rud éigin speisialta sa chomhluadar seo.

There was something special in this company.

In ainneoin an suímh nua dhochoiteanta, fuair Niamh a cuid cruthaitheachta ar ais.

Despite the unexpected new setting, Niamh found her creativity again.

Nuair atá tú as fócas, b'fhéidir nach bhféachann tú thar do bhosca féin.

When you're out of focus, perhaps you don't look beyond your own box.

Ach le Cian, bhí an bhosca sin áthas agus aislingí.

But with Cian, that box was filled with joy and dreams.

Is beag a thuigeadar gur thosaigh laethanta nua don bheirt, ignithe ag na síolta beaga a phlenaid i dtionnscnaimh neamhdheimhnithe.

Little did they know that new days had begun for both of them, ignited by the small seeds they planted in their uncertain beginnings.

Ar Lá Fhéile Bríde, bhí súil nua ag Niamh.

On Lá Fhéile Bríde, Niamh had a new outlook.

Bhí an Geimhreadh ag imeacht; bhí an gailearaí inmheánach ar ais ar siúl.

Winter was departing; the internal gallery was back in motion.

Bhí an saol ach ag tosú arís, agus ansin a saibhreas loinnir agus a misean úr.

Life was just starting again, with its renewed brilliance and mission.

Mar sin, sa scéal seo faoi Niamh agus Cian, thug a gcaidreamh nua pobal nua, radharc úr, agus níos mó ná rud amháin ina saol laethúil.

So, in this story of Niamh and Cian, their new relationship brought a new community, a fresh view, and more than one thing into their daily lives.

Bhí an spréach phléascach ag bailiú, ag réabadh.

The explosive spark was gathering, erupting.

Bhain Niamh slí na teicneolaíochta agus dheachtú í mar ealaín ina shaothar úrnua.

Niamh embraced the path of technology and transformed it into art in her new work.

Uaireanta, ní chuideoidh ach siúlóid bheag gheimhridh agus an ball beag is simplí den nádúr muid a thabhairt chuig áiteanna níos déanaí.

Sometimes, only a little winter walk and the simplest piece of nature can lead us to later places.