E(nlaith) betha brig cen tair

is ar fálti frisin gréin.

Hi noin enair cipsi uair.

congair a sluaig din chaill chéir.

I n-ocht calaind apreil áin

tecait fainnli fria nglan dail

traig ardd (i ) (c)id (n)osceil

in-ocht calaind octimbir.

I feil Ruadain rád cen dis

[is] and oslaicther a nglais

hi sechtmad déc calaind mái

dogair in chúi din chaill chaiss.

Hi noin iúil anait eoin

(do chantain) ch(iui)l lith lathi conait chet bí

do Mail Ruain o Thamlacti.

Hi feil Ciarain meic in tsaer

tecait giugraind dar fairge uair

I feil Ciprian condelgg n-oll

(geis)id da(m) (do)nd din rái réid.

The birds of the world, power without ill,

’tis to welcome the sun.

On January's nones, whatever hour it be,

the cry of the host from the dark wood.

On the eighth of the calends of noble April

the swallows come on their pure tryst

… . . , what hides them?

on the eighth of the calends of October.

On the festival of Rúadán, no petty saying,

their fetters are then unloosed.

On the seventeenth of the calends of May

the cuckoo calls from the pleasant wood.

On the nones of July the birds cease

to sing the music of holydays

… … … … .

for Máel Rúain from Tamlachta.

On the festival of Cíarán, son of the wright,

wild geese come over the cold sea.

On the festival of Cyprian, a great counsel,

the brown stag bells from the ruddy field.