Lúireach Bhríde (Brigid's Breastplate)

Рет қаралды 2,427

Күн бұрын

Commissioned by Aoife Nic Cormaic for the inaugural RTÉ Folk Awards in 2018, Lúireach Bhríde was written by poet Annemarie Ní Churreáin (lyrics below) and set to original music by Landless.
For the text, poet Annemarie Ní Churreáin revisited the pre-Christian stories associated with Brigid, commonly known in Ireland as a triple Goddess of poetry, healing and smithcraft. It is said that when Brigid’s outlawed son Ruadán died in battle, Brigid began to keen and this was the first time ever that keening was heard in this country. Despite her many reincarnations in Irish culture and beyond, Brigid remains a symbol of female power and strength, with the ability to express and transcend according to - and despite - the world around her.
Today at The Brigid Well in Kildare, where this text was composed, the oaks are decorated with ribbons, pagan emblems, and infant cloths in memory of the Goddess. A ‘lúireach’ (or a ‘lorica’) is a protective prayer or a ‘breastplate’. The original version of this text takes the form of a poem and is dedicated to the children of The Bon Secours Mother and Baby Home at Tuam, Galway.
I
Strong is the milk of the kine on which I was raised.
For an arrow of fire I was named.
This song is for my firstborn son,
my little outlaw, my blood-thorn
dreamed back under earth too soon.
When I keened the beasts in the field cried out
as lonely as the ash in spring.
my oxen, my boar, my ram with the black stare
their breath warm on my hand.
II
For laying with a king I paid dearly.
I weaved rush, I knot-tied the ends
Until crisp they made the sound of breaking.
Now in the house that guards my source,
a red wick on a silent tongue,
a wooden lark
But beyond this house an great oaks hold
There is in my belly a heat like a forge.
III
By herb I learned how to yield a foal,
how to tend a hoof
and when across the threshold women came too,
all nineteen of them I taught how to brew,
how to hold and unhold in themselves
suaimhneas, suaimhneas, suaimhneas
For the sisters of the ambue I spoke my poem
and cured the judge of his ugly grin.
IV
Eldest daughter that I am,
I convened unwed girls
and around the land we granted swords
against closed doors.
Three times we knocked and yelled
ready our meals. And welcome us in!
From loss comes clarity like a cloak
A butter wedge, a handful of salt,
silk cloths to shield the newly born.
V
This is a song after heavy rains.
In my honour red ribbons stream
from the oaks, a child’s cloth
Smooth as a scar, the well awaits
What runs unseen must emerge
They have carved my image into stone
torn up my skull between ruins
but still I am known
by the river’s route underground
by the river’s sound as it calls.

Пікірлер: 4

@peggykelley1799 Ай бұрын

Soothingly beautiful

@daniilogorodnikov6797 5 жыл бұрын

Fell in love with you girls. Awesome singing, capable at any moment to create, if not magic around, then the atmosphere of a Celtic tale, straight from the stories of W. B. Yeats about fairies.