Hi,
I am working on a novel set in 17th century Ireland. I need help with the assorted Gaelic phrases throughout the book.

email me at
jackieashton@hotmail.com
if you can help.

Thanks!
Jackie

Any idea what Mo Chul means? I hope It's an endearment.

Email send to
calypsopoet@webtv.net

I've a finished novel myself and this phrase came to me.
Maybe I read it somewhere. I've used it in the most intimate of moments. Any suggestions for another pet name would be appreaciated.

Capt. Karen Hill

According to my dictionary cul = back - so I assume it's "my back". Which could, I suppose, be like "my spine", ie my support etc. Real gaelic speaker needed to clarify this!

Endearments I know are mo chroi (macree) which is darling, literally my heart. Another "darling" is muirnin (masculine, fourth declension...) and the adjective is ionuin.

Yes, cúl = back

And then there's " mo chuisle "
My pulse - now that's endearment.

We're not confused with Fionn Mac Cumhail here?
Finn mo chul ??
Finn McCool ??

Yes Yes!
All is good.
Back yes. He likes her back. And her heart.
I do think the spine of his life is very appropo. Darling! My Pulse. Yes.
I could have read it, in reference to Finn.
I've read alot. Sometimes it's hard to remember where ideas come from.
Very usefull information. I really am excited.
I will use this, thanks.
I just love it.
Gratitude to both.
Suzie
Accabel

I didn't think I'd get such help.
Mo Chul!

Accasbel
Sorry. I'm so sorry.

I am truly honoured, to sit here among you tonight on the eve of Jesus' birthday and repeat to you what was told to me....
Young like you.
and like you, my kin was gathered together, in front of a communal fire, such as this.
I tell you of a legend of a man..
A warrior who defended his people against all foe.
Proteted his clan and bretherin till the day he died standing, mortally wounded, facing his enemies. The enemy hadn't the insight, that the man they had come to kill, had lashed himself to a pillar of stone, across the river from them, and died, defiantly looking them in the face, with sword and shield in his lifeless hands.
The legend of the Hound Of Culainn.

The story behind the name he was given.
The leader of men he had grown to become.
His undefeatable spirit is for ever rooted into our Celtic marrow.
Now, what remains of Chuculainn, comes through a timeless oral tradition.
Spoken by mouth, for generation by generation, told through the Senachies of our culture.
We have indeed kept our hero alive.

The story teller looked every youngster in the eyes.
When he knew he had their minds within his reach, he continued.


In the presence of the future.
I shall speak to you of the past.


The Smith Culainn.......

THANK YOU for your form,

Want to know more?
I'll be here.

The journey starts with a single step.
The moon was dissolving below the horizon, into the western ocean.
Chance released the urn as his hand dropped to his left side.
He took several steps into the salty water, toward the disappearing moon.
Moments passed and he found he was up to his armpits in sea water.
He was swimming in that same universe where he had just laid his Mo Chul to rest.
He found himself calling his god, who obviously wasn't listening, or was hard of hearing.
A god uncaring.
A god that didn't have heart nor soul.
A god with no mercy.
He thought, a god that did not exist.
Or maybe god was not running the store anymore.
Or maybe god never did.
Chance howled his grief.
"Where are you? I need you. I need you. Come back to me. I Love you."
Chance silently turned around and looked to the eastern sky. Abreast of the curvaure the Earth, the sky illuminated and slowly the space filled with light.
"You have no heart, no soul. Jesus! No one is even listening."
Chance slogged out of the wet receptical of his pain. There he stood, fully dressed, sea water pouring out of his shirt and down his pants, over and into his shoes.

He felt a wiggling inside his purple polo shirt.
Chance drew forward the collar and looked down through the unbuttoned placket.
He took a long look.
There were things down there.
Chance untucked his shirt from around his waist.
Down fell three small fish, dropping into the ocean. A bright red crab scurried down his pant leg.
"I'll be damn."

The morning sun rose in a blinding clarity.
He took a few faultering steps in the direction of the sun.
The urn which had remained, close o shore had turned it's oriface toward the open sea.
With the pull of the sea it wiggled to and frow..
Chance as he passed noticed something winking.
His eyes inspected the sandy bottom to find an emerald ring sparkling through the aqua waters.
"Mo Chul?"
Chance turned the ring over and over through his fingers.
Slowly, he walked along the western shore off the coast of Burmuda, when he found himself standing on the dock where his sailboat lay. Through the isthmus of the Harbour Hamilton, he was looking at the sun and he found a truce there in the boundless lucidity.


TO BE CONTINUED.......

Acca

I was looking unsuccessfully for the Gaelic for my pulse, as I knew it was an endearment and one after my own heart... so thanks for putting it in!

In the beginning.....


Standing free on this promontory high above the Loch Roag, a young lad with an ocean breeze whipping through his long brown hair, looked out over the great expanse of water below him. His rescuers thought he probably hailed from one of the Outer Hebridies Isles, a cluster of many islands off of Sotland's northwestern shore. But they really couldn't be sure of where.
Now he was safe, here in these old ruins of some long ago Stonehenge. A christian ministry grew up around this ancient temple that was compliled here a thousand years before the Egyptians built their first pyramids.
For what purpose were these Standing Stones erected? It was a question for the ages.
Chance liked to come here and watch the Atlantic Ocean breaking it's legions of branches on the Isles skeleton of rocks and cliffs. The smell of the sea air stirred something basic in his needs. Deep in his heart to the foundation of his soul, the sea sang to him a beautiful song of adventure and danger. Yes, he knew of the dangers very well. He had felt the bite she held in her embrace.
Right now the rolling waves beheld a peaceful face of contentment. But she was known to change her mind and raise another mask, one of rage to the world. To destroy everything in the path of the tempest.


The strategy was to pay attention to the signs nature provided, to the listeners, to the perceptive. Chance knew never again would he let the waters lull him to sleep.
No sir. He was wide-awake and waiting.

Chapter One


"To the Devil!"
What was it about her that he couldn't liberate from his mind?
As far back as he could remember she was a lot of trouble. You could say she was a brazen wee thing.
And at his time in his life he had no idea where she was.
Why did she still inhabit his thoughts.
Why did he fantasize about her in the recesses and back alleys of his mind? Envision her naked and wanting? With lusty movements enticing him.
What was it that set her apart from the other women he'd known? Was it her beauty?
Her face was pleasing to look at, yes.
The landscape thronged with pleasing females. And Chance had sampled quite a few. Usually women left him without a thought as to their person. He found beautiful did not develop the depth of character which was necessary to engage his brain, occupy his dreams.
Then, of course, there was his Mo Chul's swell of raven black hair. It was indeed quite attractive. You couldn't say it was the overwhelming factor.
You couldn't actually make love to her rampant head of hair. Although, it was erotic when he dreamed about her, the way her stands of ebony hair flowed down from her head and sensualy enveloped his face and chest. The roaming tresses caressed him as she lay on top, while they made love in his sleep.
And she was a smart ass. Much too sassy for his imagined, ideal lover.
But he had to laugh at her willfull approach to life.
The body that nature had given her was feminine but frugal. One thing though, she was blessed with long shapely legs.
Chance had to admit he was effected by her voice. His gut pulled when he heard her words of love communicated in his dreams. And there was her laughter. As lithe as the air. And the ripe smell of her. Autumn harvest and winters filled with wood fires came to his mind. All this time has gone by and he still had this unquenchable appetite for wood smoke and summer fruit.
She had left him with this hunger. With this wanting. This haunting in his life.
She would forever burn in his memory.

The schooner leaped through the cresting water. And Chance awoke with his predilections still making themselves known.
He almost had her this time. She had been lying on top, the full lenght o her. With the raven black hair falling over her shoulders, draping him in the pure essence of it. Her feminine musky aroma surrounded his face. She was laughing. Laughing as he pushed her down into the pillows and sheets. Down he went, and down. She was going to be his.
Pounding, pounding, pounding.
Chance was rolled out of his birth as the schooner descended into the trough of a wave.

"To the Devil!"
Chance was sliding across his birth and on to the teak and holly wood sole. He sat up.
His brown hair fell across his eyes.

He was now awake. Very Awake.

Any one have a suggestion for "To the Devil!" ?

Try "imig an anam a dhiobhail"

Lit "out in the name of the devil"

Padraig

Hey thank you so much.
I recieved your post and I appreciate your input.
Out in the name of dhiobhail!

Hi,
If you are still looking for these phrases you might find the following useful.
"Chun an diabhal leat" or "Go tigh an diabhal leat" or "Go dtogfadh an diabhal leat". These are some of the ways in which we say "go to hell". The first translates as "to the devil with you", the second as "to the devils house with you" and the last as "That the devil would take you". They are very much spoken phrases, still you might like to know them.
Also some terms of endearment we use are "mo croi", my heart, "mo stoirin", my precious, "mo gra", my love. I can give you more if you would like.
Hope this helped someone (and sorry about the lack of fadas!)
Bye.

Yes tell me more.
Ta failte romhat!

Dia dhuit aris,
Glad they were of some use. Some other alternatives are "muirnin", "a thaisce" , "m'aingeal (my angel)", "allanna (for a beloved child)", "leannan".
I think that is most of them. If I come across anymore I will let you know. By the way I was the guest talking about anglo-Irish curses. It is weird how concious I have become of the curses my friends use since then! As soon as I figure out what curses we Irish use when we at our most "Irish" I will let you know.
Slan go foill,
D.

Just to lt you know, 'mo Chul' means 'my back'. So you can not really say his mo chul as that would be saying his my back. Mo chul is better used in direct speech. A chul means his back.
Slan,
D.

thought this might be of interest.A young first time director by the name of Gary Kelly is putting together a movie based on the life of Chuchulainn.He has ben working on it for some time and he wants to do three Irish legend epics.He has not yet found the actor who will play Chuculainn.

Mel G? Nah, he's too old now...hmmm, maybe Ethan Hawke?

He has said the actor will be Irish,possibly unknown.He wants every top Irish actor to be in it.Liam Neeson,Brendan Gleeson and Patrick Bergin to start with.Patrick Bergin has already been given a basic outline of the story.

He is selling the idea of this movie to the actors he wants in it by saying"If u are not in it,then you are not an Irish actor".It is going to be pretty big.It is going to be directed by the man who directed"Flight of the Phoenix"last year.

ok, i cant put anymore on this site for now with regard to the movie but i will when i can,cheers!