Mairg darab galar an grádh

(Love is a sad sickness)
Author: Isibeul ní Mhic Cailín

Here's a verse translation.

Irish	My English translation
Mairg darab galar an grádh,	Love is a sad sickness --
gibé fath fá n-abraim é	When speaking to him, whatever the cause,
is deacair sgarthain re a pháirt;	it is a hardship to separate after time together.
truagh an cás a bhfuilim féin.	Pity my own blood's case.
--	--
An grádh-soin tugas gan fhios,	This love of mine came without [my] knowledge;
ós é mo leas gan a luadh,	my benefits came over him without mention.
muna fhaghad furtacht tráth,	For us delay departure an hour,
biaidh mo bhláth go tana truagh.	if my flower would, till a time of pity.
--	--
An fear-soin dá dtugas grádh,	This man of mine -- love came, for him,
's nách féadaim a rádh ós aird,	and I cannot say from what direction;
dá gcuire sé mise i bpéin,	though buried, it's myself in pain,
go madh dó féin bhus céad mairg!	till I burn myself with a hundred sorrows!