onsdag, januar 21, 2009

Irish blessing

I går var jeg med på øvelse i Fjellhaug Vokalensemble. Skal være med noen ganger og se om det fungerer greit og så blir jeg kanskje med videre.

En av sangene vi øvde på var en irsk velsignelse:

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

Den minte meg om en velsignelse jeg hørte på Salmer til alle tider, på NRK P1, for noen år tilbake. Jeg gjorde noen Googlesøk og fant blant annet denne siden med Irske bønner og velsignelser, lurer på om det kan ha vært denne:

May the rains sweep gentle across your fields,
May the sun warm the land,
May every good seed you have planted bear fruit,
And late summer find you standing in fields of plenty.

Det var mye annet fint på denne siden, her er noen fler:

Don't grieve for me, for now I'm free!
I follow the plan God laid for me.
I saw His face, I heard His call,
I took His hand and left it all...
I could not stay another day,
To love, to laugh, to work or play;
Tasks left undone must stay that way.
And if my parting has left a void,
Then fill it with remembered joy.
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss...
Ah yes, these things I, too, shall miss.
My life's been full, I've savoured much:
Good times, good friends, a loved-one's touch.
Perhaps my time seemed all too brief—
Don't shorten yours with undue grief.
Be not burdened with tears of sorrow,
Enjoy the sunshine of the morrow.

May neighbours respect you,
Trouble neglect you,
The angels protect you,
And heaven accept you.

May there always be work for your hands to do.
May your purse always hold a coin or two.
May the sun always shine on your windowpane.
May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain.
May the hand of a friend always be near you.
May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.

May you see God's light on the path ahead
When the road you walk is dark.
May you always hear,
Even in your hour of sorrow,
The gentle singing of the lark.
When times are hard may hardness
Never turn your heart to stone,
May you always remember
when the shadows fall—
You do not walk alone.

Ingen kommentarer: