A year, now, she was with Conchobor, and during that time she did not smile a laughing smile, and she did not partake of her sufficiency of food or of sleep, and she did not raise her head from her knee. Whenever, therefore, they brought the musicians to her, then she recited this following extempore (?) poem:
Deirdriu
- Though fair you deem the eager warriors
Who stride about in Emain after an expedition,
More nobly used to march to their dwelling
The three very heroic sons of Uisliu.- Noisiu with good hazel-mead—
Him I washed at the fire—
Arddan with a stag or a fine pig,
A load [was] over Aindle's tall back.- Though sweet you deem the goodly mead
Which the battle-glorious Mac Nessa drinks,
I had heretofore—ocean over [its] brink—
Frequent refection that was sweeter.- As often as modest Noisiu had spread out
The cooking hearth on the martial plain of the forest,
Sweeter was always than each honeyed food
What the son of Uisliu had contrived.- Though melodious you deem at all times
Pipers and hornblowers,
This is my confession today:
I have heard music that was more melodious.
- Melodious used to deem Conchobor, your king,
Pipers and hornblowers;
More melodious I used to deem—fame of hosts (?)—
The strain which the Sons of Uisliu used to sing.- Noisiu's voice [was like] the sound of a wave;
To hear him always was [like] melodious music.
The baritone of Arddan was good—
The tenor (?) song of Aindle [on his way] to his ///shieling.- Noisiu—his sepulchral mound has been made.
Sad was the accompaniment.
For him I have poured out—host over a height (?)—
The deadly draught of which he has died.- Beloved [is] the [little] crop of hair (?) with yellow (?) beauty
Comely [is] the man, even
[...]
Sorrowful it is [indeed] that I do not expect today
To await the son of Uisliu.- Beloved [is] the desire, steadfast [and] just;
Beloved [is] the warrior, noble [and] very modest.
After a journey beyond the forest's fence,
Beloved [is] the
[...]
in the early morning.- Beloved [is] the gray eye that women used to love;
Fierce it used to be against foes.
After a circuit of the forest—a noble union—
Beloved [is] the tenor (?) song through a dark great wood.- I do not sleep now,
And I do not redden my fingernails.
Joy, it comes not into my observation
Since it will not lead hither (?) the son of Tindell.- I do not sleep
Half of the night as I lie.
My reason is agitated about the hosts;
Not only do I not eat, but I do not laugh.- Joy, today [for it] I have no leisure
In the gathering of Emain—[there] nobles are thronged (?)—
Nor peace, nor delight, nor ease,
Nor a big house, nor fair adornment.