I lár an bhaile bheag, áit a bhí an seipeal staire sin, bhí eagla ar na daoine roimh an oíche ar an 9 Márta gach bliain.

In the middle of the small village, where that historic chapel stood, the people were afraid of the night of March 9th each year.

Bhí traidisiún corraitheach ag an seipeal.

The chapel had an intriguing tradition.

An oíche sin, cloistí scothram ceithre cinn déag ón túr cloch.

On that night, the sound of fourteen chimes could be heard from the stone tower.

Ní raibh éinne a bhí in ann míniú a thabhairt.

No one was able to explain it.

Bhí Eamon, iriseoir áitiúil, ag iarraidh an fhírinne a fháil amach.

Eamon, a local journalist, was determined to uncover the truth.

Níor chreid sé sna traidisiúin nó sna scéalta faoi thuar gan mhíniú.

He didn't believe in the traditions or stories of unexplained omens.

Ach bhí rud amháin ag spreagadh é – an fonn ar muinín a fháil agus meas na ndaoine a bhuachan.

But one thing was driving him – the desire to gain trust and earn the respect of the people.

Bhí sé tuirseach dá chuid amhras féin faoina chumas mar iriseoir.

He was tired of his own doubts about his capabilities as a journalist.

Bhí an seipeal sean agus fíor-álainn, timpeallaithe ag bláthanna a d'oscail i rith an earraigh.

The chapel was old and truly beautiful, surrounded by flowers that blossomed in the spring.

Ach nuair a thagann an oíche, bíonn an áit seo le brath ansin faoi cheo mistéireach.

But when night falls, this place becomes enveloped in a mysterious mist.

An ghaoth ag screadach tríd na ballaí cloiche mar áirid séulan saghas damhsa ársa.

The wind howling through the stone walls sounded like some sort of ancient dance.

Mar a bheith ag iarraidh réiteach a fháil, shocraigh Eamon an oíche sin a chaitheamh sa tseipeal.

In an effort to find a solution, Eamon decided to spend that night in the chapel.

Bhí a chroí ag preabadh lena thaobh féin, ach bhí a fhios aige gur ghá don fhírinne teacht amach.

His heart was pounding, but he knew the truth had to be uncovered.

Thóg sé leabhar nótaí agus ceamara leis.

He brought a notebook and camera with him.

Is beagán díomhaoin a d'éirigh é mar a tháinig meán oíche.

Little happened as midnight approached.

Na geataí dúnáilte, agus Eamon ina aonar i gcroílár séipéal na farraige.

The gates closed, and Eamon found himself alone in the heart of the sea chapel.

Bhí an choiméide faoin gclog i gcónaí ag déanamh cliseadh ar an am.

The clock's comedy kept misfiring the time.

Ar a deich, a haon déag, a dá dhéag.

At ten, eleven, twelve.

Ansin — an cárta ceathair déag!

Then — the fourteenth chime!

Ar a chlóise, chonaic Eamon scáth ag gluaiseacht sa túr.

To his astonishment, Eamon saw a shadow moving in the tower.

Bhí sé teannaithe, ach shín sé a lámh ar aghaidh le misneach.

Although tense, he reached forward with courage.

Chonaic sé Declan, sean-fhear an tsráidbhaile, ag úsáid cor na mbiorán meicneora chun na cloig a bhualadh i gceart.

He saw Declan, an old man from the village, using the winding mechanism to strike the chimes correctly.

Bhí cluiche tugtha ag Declan fiche bliana ó shin lena athair agus, gan dul i gcomhar le haon duine, lean sé leis mar dhlisteanach.

Declan had played this game with his father twenty years ago, and without involving anyone else, he continued it as a legitimate act.

Míorathónaigh an t-iontas ar Eamon.

Eamon was amazed at the revelation.

Ach nuair a bhain sé teacht ar an bhfírinne, d'fhoghlaim sé scéal mór luachmhar.

But upon discovering the truth, he learned a great and valuable story.

Scríobh sé alt láidir, lándáiríochta sa bpáipéar áitiúil.

He wrote a strong, authentic article for the local newspaper.

Léigh na daoine go léir é, agus an lá sin, fuair Eamon an meas agus an muinín a bhí uaidh.

Everyone read it, and that day, Eamon gained the respect and trust he desired.

Thar gach rud eile, d'fhoghlaim Eamon nach bhfuil eagla le fulaingt ach amháin an uair a dhraenálfar os cionn ár néalta féin.

Above all else, Eamon learned that fear is only endured when we rise above our own clouds.

Agus is ansin amháin is féidir an fhírinne a fháil amach – loscadh ag solas an eolais na oscailt.

And only then can the truth be discovered — illuminated by the light of knowledge that opens.

Bealtaine a cuid eolais mar an t-amhrán a sheolann ar ais chuig na héigsí í.

May its knowledge be like the song that sends it back to the poets.

Tá sé réidh anois dul ar aghaidh, go fírinneach sa saol.

He is now ready to move forward, truly in life.