Transcript:
Bhí feirmeoir roinnt saibhir ann fadó agus bhí beirt mhac aige. Lá dhos na laethanta,
dúirt an mac ab óige lena athair, "B'fhearra dhuit," ar seisean, "mo chuid féin
airgead a thabhairt domhsa agus mé a scaoileadh chun an bhóthair." Do roinn an
t-athair an t-airgead eatarthu. I gceann cúpla lá ina dhiaidh san do bhailigh an mac
ab óige a chuid giúirléidí go léir i dteannta a chéile agus seo chun siúil é go dtí
dúthaigh iasachta i bhfad ó bhaile. Ní raibh sé i bhfad imithe nuair a chaith sé a
chuid airgid go léir ag ól is ag ragairne.
Thit amach gur tháinig gorta ana-dhian sa tír is bhí an fear bocht ag fáilt bháis
leis an ocras. Bhí feirmeoir san áit agus do chuaigh sé ag obair chuige. Agus sé an
obair a thug sé sin dó ná dul amach go dtína chuid talún ag cothú muc. Ba mhaith leis
a bholg a líonadh dos sna féithleoga do bhíodh na muca a dh'ithe ach ní thabharfadh
éinne dhó iad.
Do stad agus do chuimhnigh sé air féin. "Tá a lán seirbhísigh," ar seisean, "sa
bhaile ag obair aige m'athair agus tá a ndaothaint le n-ithe agus le n-ól acu agus
mise anso ag fáilt bháis leis an ocras. Éireod láithreach agus raghaidh mé ag triall
ar m'athair agus déarfaidh mé leis go bhfuil botún ana-mhór déanta agam air agus go
bhfuil cathú orm 'na thaobh."
Nuair a chonaic an t-athair ag teacht é tháinig ana-thrua aige dhó. Do rith sé ina
choinnibh agus do chaith sé é féin ar a bhráid agus do phóg sé é. Is ansan dúirt an
mac lena athair, "Tá peaca mór déanta agam ort agus ní fiú feasta go ndéarfá gur mac
duit mé."
Do ghlaoigh an t-athair ar a chuid seirbhísigh. "Brostaíg," ar seisean, "agus
tabharaigí chugham an culaith éadach is fearr san áit agus fáinne óir ar a mhéir agus
bróga ar a chosa. Agus maraígí an gamhain ramhar. Agus glaofaimid ar na comharsain go
léir agus beidh oíche ana-cheolmhar againn i dteannta a chéile. Mar an mac so do
cheapas do bhí marbh, baochas le Dia go bhfuil sé thar n-ais beo chugham anso
arís."
Bhí an deartháir ba shine amuigh sa pháirc ag obair. Agus nuair a tháini' sé abhaile
im thráthnóna bhí ionadh an domhain air nuair a dh'airigh sé an ceol is an rince go
léir. Do ghlaoigh sé ar duine dhos na seirbhísigh agus do dh'fhiafraigh sé de, "Cad
fé ndeara an gleo so go léir?"
"Ó, do dheartháir," arsa an seirbhíseach. "Tá sé dh'éis teacht abhaile agus do
mharaibh t'athair an gamhain ramhar dó. Agus tá na comharsain go léir bailithe ag cur
fáilte roimhe."
Tháinig fearg ana-mhór air agus ní raghadh sé isteach in aon chor. Agus ansan dúirt
sé lena athair, "Táimse anso leis na bliantaibh agat agus ní thugais oiread is
mionnán riamh dom. Ach an mac so, tréis teacht abhaile tréis a choda go léir a
chaitheamh gach aon slí níos measa ná a chéile, do mharaís an gamhain ramhar dó."
"Á," arsa an t-athair leis, "táirse le m'ais i gcónaí agus nuair a bheidh mé ag fáilt
bháis fágfaidh mé mo chuid talún go léir agat. Ach ba cheart dúinn áthas mór a bheith
againn ar ár dTiarna i dtaobh a theachta thar n-ais go slán sábháilthe chughainn
arís."

Commentary:
Tá an insint seo de Pharabal an Mhic Dhrabhlásaigh (Lúcás 15:11-32) bunaithe ar leagan a tugadh don chainteoir roimh ré. Féach Peadar Ua Laoghaire, Na cheithre Soisgéil as an dTiomna Nua (BÁC, 1915), 191-2. Moladh don chainteoir an scéal a chur in oiriúint dá chanúint féin.

Translation:
Long ago, there was a fairly rich farmer and he had two sons. One day, the youngest
son said to his father, "You had better," said he, "give me my money and let me go."
The father divided the money amongst them. A few days after that the youngest son
gathered all his things together and off he went to a foreign land far from home. He
wasn't long gone when he spent all his money on drink and debauchery.
It so happened that there was a very severe famine in the country and the poor man
was dying of hunger. There was a farmer in the place and he went working for him. And
the work that he gave him was to go out to his land feeding pigs. He wanted to fill
his stomach with the pods the pigs were eating but no one would give him any.
He stopped and thought. "There are many servants," said he, "at home working for my
father and they have enough to eat and drink and I am here dying of hunger. I'll get
up straight away and go to my father and I'll tell him that I've made a huge mistake
and that I regret it."
When the father saw him coming he took great pity on him. He ran towards him and
threw himself upon him and kissed him. Then the son said to his father, "I have
sinned greatly against you and I no longer deserve that you call me your son."
The father called his servants. "Hurry," said he, "and bring me the best suit in the
place and a gold ring on his finger and shoes on his feet. And kill the fatted calf.
And we will call all the neighbours and we will have a great night of music together.
Because this son I thought was dead, thank God he has come back alive here to me
again.
The elder brother was out in the field working. And when he came home in the evening
he was astonished when he heard all the music and dance. He called one of the
servants and asked him, "What is the reason for all this noise?"
"Oh, your brother," said the servant. "He has come home and your father has killed
the fatted calf for him. And all the neighbours have assembled to welcome him."
He became very angry and wouldn't go in at all. And then he said to his father, "I am
years here with you and you never gave me as much as kid goat. But this son, after
coming home after spending all he got in all sorts of terrible ways, you killed the
fatted calf for him."
"Ah," said the father to him, "you are by my side always and when I am dying I'll
leave you all my land. But we should be very joyful towards our Lord that he has come
back safe and sound to us again."

Commentary:
This telling of the Parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32) is based on a version
supplied to the speaker in advance. See Peadar Ua Laoghaire, Na
cheithre Soisgéil as an dTiomna Nua (Dublin, 1915), 191-2. The speaker was
encouraged to adapt the text to his own dialect.