I ngyrth sí ú-lostar
The dead do not sleep here
Ú-chiriar îdh
They have found no rest
Hiriar harch ring a nîd
Only a cold, dank grave
Tano i óner
To mark what they gave,
Io na ndagor veleg
To a great battle – long ago;
Na dûr ben-galu, na naeth arvethed
To a fruitless victory – to endless woe.
Mín galad a chuil ban.
One light for each life.
Mín sarch a ngurth ban.
One grave for every death.