Aistriúchán den Chomhrá le Nola, An Srónbheannach (A Translation of the Irish Dialogue with Nola)–Cuid 2/2 

Posted on 07. Dec, 2015 by in Irish Language

 (le Róislín)

Srónbheannach bán óg. Ní deir an t-eolas leis an ngrianghraf seo an ceann deisceartach nó tuaisceartach atá ann/inti, ach creidim gur ceann deisceartach atá ann. Sin nó glacadh an grianghraf seo thart fá thrí bliana déag ó shin mar tá an srónbheannach bán tuaisceartach is óige ("Fatu," san Ol Pejeta Conservancy) ceithre bliana déag (14) anois. (grafaic san fhearann poiblí / public domain image, http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/view-image.php?image=137903&picture=baby-white-rhinoceros, le Lynn Greyling)

Srónbheannach bán óg. Ní deir an t-eolas leis an ngrianghraf seo an ceann deisceartach nó tuaisceartach atá ann/inti, ach creidim gur ceann deisceartach atá ann. Sin nó glacadh an grianghraf seo thart fá thrí bliana déag ó shin mar tá an srónbheannach bán tuaisceartach is óige (“Fatu,” in Ol Pejeta Conservancy) ceithre bliana déag (14) anois. (grafaic san fhearann poiblí / public domain image, http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/view-image.php?image=137903&picture=baby-white-rhinoceros, le Lynn Greyling)

As mentioned in the most recent blog post (nasc thíos), this is a continuation of the translation of my imaginary conversation, in Irish, with Nola, an srónbheannach bán tuaisceartach deireanach a bhí ina cónaí sa leathsféar thiar.   Ise an ceann baineann deireanach sa leathsféar thiar agus an ceann deireanach dena fospeiceas sa leathsféar thiar. Ina cónaí sa Pháirc Safari de chuid Zú San Diego a bhí sí.  Bhíodh ceann fireann ann, Angalifu (1970-2014) ach fuair sé bás thart fá bhliain ó shin.  Anois níl ach triúr den fhospeiceas fágtha beo ar domhan, iad i dtearmann sa Chéinia (Ol Pejeta Conservancy, nasc thíos), le gardaí armáilte á gcosaint an t-am ar fad.   

So here’s the rest of the conversation with an interlinear translation and a few explanatory notes.  The first line overlaps the last quoted line in the last blog, ar son leanúnachais:

R: Mar sin níl lao srónbheannaigh (lao srónbheannach bán tuaisceartach) ann áit ar bith ar domhan?

So there is no rhinoceros calf (northern white rhinoceros calf) anywhere in the world?

N: Níl, agus níl seans ann go mbeidh ceann ann.  Níl céile agam agus ní shíleann na zó-eolaithe go mbeidh níos mó páistí ag “Sudan,” an t-aon srónbheannach bán tuaisceartach fireann amháin atá fágtha ar domhan. Tá iníon agus gariníon aige ach ní shíleann na zó-eolaithe go mbeidh sliocht eile ann.

No, and there’s no chance that there will be.  I don’t have a mate and the zoologists don’t think that “Sudan,” the last male northern white rhinoceros left on earth, will have any more children.  He has a daughter and granddaughter but the zoologists don’t think there will be any other offspring.

R: Tá sin uafásach ar fad.  Cén fáth a mbíonn na póitseálaithe ar bhur dtóir?

That’s really terrible (lit. terrible altogether).  Why do the poachers hunt you?

N: Síleann daoine gur féidir leo afraidíseach a dhéanamh as ár n-adharca.  Ach níl inár n-adharca ach ceiritin.  Go díreach cosúil le hingne do mhéar, nó ingne mhéara na ndaoine a chreideann gur afraidíseach atá ann, leis an fhírinne a dhéanamh.  D’fhéadfadh siad an rud céanna a dhéanamh as a n-ingne féin, gan a bheith ag marú m’fhospeicis.  Tá muid beagnach marbh mar fhospeiceas, tá a fhios agat.

Nóta: Mh’anam!  Trí fhoirm den fhocal “ionga” in alt beag amháin: 1) ingne, fingernails; 2) cosúil le hingne, like (the) fingernails (of) — with the h-prefix after the word “le“, and 3) a n-ingne, their fingernails, with eclipsis (prefixing the “n-“)

People think they can make an aphrodisiac out of our horns.  But our horns are simply made of keratin.  Just like your fingernails, or the fingernails of the people who believe that it is an aphrodisiac, to tell the truth.  They could make the same thing out of their own nails, without (being at) killing our subspecies.  We are almost dead as a subspecies, you know.

R: Tá a fhios agam. Ba bhreá liom a bheith ábalta rud éigin a dhéanamh faoi ach, faraor, níl sé i mo chumas rud ar bith a dhéanamh seachas ailt mar seo a scríobh.

I know.  I would love to be able to do something about it but, unfortunately, it’s not in my power to do anything except write an article like this.

N: Bhuel, sin mar atá agus níl neart againn air.  Níl mé uaigneach, tá a fhios agat, mar tá sioráif, gasailí, agus buabhaill rinne ina gcónaí sa chlós ollmhór seo, agus tá na coimeádaithe ann.  Agus tagann cuairteoirí chugam, mar thusa agus an t-iriseoir Irv Erdos as San Diego.  Ach tá eagla orm go mbeidh mé “gan ó gan mac os mo chionn, a shilfeadh na deora tráthnóna nó’r maidin go trom,” mar a deir an t-amhrán. Ní fheicfidh mé srónbheannach bán tuaisceartach óg i mo shaol, an méid den saol atá fágtha dom.

Well, that’s how it is, and we have no power over it.  I’m not lonely, you know, because there are giraffes, gazelles, and Cape buffalo living in this giant enclosure, and there are the keepers.  And visitors come to me, like yourself and the journalist Irv Erdos from San Diego.  But I fear that I will be “gan ó gan mac os mo chionn, a shilfeadh na deora tráthnóna nó’r maidin go trom” (without an heir or a son “after me, but lit.  “above me” who would shed tears heavily [for me when I’m gone] in the afternoon or in the morning), as the song says.  I will never see a young northern white rhinoceros in my life, whatever’s left of it.

R: Ó, a Nola, tá tú ag baint na ndeor asam cheana féin.

Nóta: Ar thug tú faoi deara na foirmeacha den fhocal “deoir” atá sa téacs? Seo iad: deora, tears; na ndeor, of the tears (from “ag baint na ndeor asam, lit. at the striking of the tears out of me)

Oh, Nola, you’re already making me cry (lit. striking the tears out of me).

N: Agus asamsa freisin, caithfidh mé a admháil.  Ach caithfidh muid a bheith dóchasach.  B’fhéidir go mbeidh freagra éigin ag na heolaithe.  Nó b’fhéidir go bhfíoróidh “Páirc Iúrasach” an lae inniu.  Idir an dá linn, bainim sult as do chuideachta agus as cuideachta na gcuairteoirí eile agus as na cuimiltí boilg is muiníl a fhaighim ó na coimeádaithe.  Céard eile atá i ndán dúinn seachas fanacht beo ar an domhan chomh fada agus is féidir linn?

And me too (lit. and out of me too), I must admit.  But we must be hopeful.  Perhaps the scientists will have some answer.  Or perhaps a “Jurassic Park” of today will become a reality.  Meanwhile, I enjoy your company and the company of the other visitors and the belly and neck rubs I get from the keepers.  What else is in store for us other than to stay alive on the earth as long as we can.

Nóta: to say “I enjoy” in Irish, it’s literally, “I strike enjoyment out of” (bainim sult as), another idiomatic use of the verb “bain, ag baint

R: ‘Sea, tá an ceart agat, agus tá súil agam go mbeidh neart agat.  Tá súil agam go mbeidh mé ábalta cuairt eile a thabhairt ort roimh i bhfad, b’fhéidir thart fán Nollaig.  Ar mhaith leat sin?

Nóta: to say “to visit,” it’s literally, “to give a visit on …” (cuairt a thabhairt ar …)

Yes, you’re right, and I hope you will have strength.  I hope I will be able to visit you again soon, perhaps around Christmas.  Would you like that?

N: Ba mhaith, cinnte.  A fhad is a mhairim.

I would, certainly.  As long as I am alive.

R: Ó, a Nola, ná bí ag caint mar sin!

Oh, Nola, don’t be talking like that!

N: Bhuel, anois, a stór, feicim an coimeádaí ag teacht.  Tá sé in am dom dul a luí anois.

Well, now, dear, I see the keeper coming.  It’s time for me to go to bed (lit. to lie down).

R: Slán go fóill, a Nola, agus tabhair faoi deara an “go fóill” sin.  Beidh mé ar ais.

Goodbye for now, Nola, and take note of that “for now” bit.  I’ll be back.

N: Tá súil agam go mbeidh.  Slán leat agus go mbeire muid beo ar an am seo arís.

Nóta: “go mbeire” is the oft-dreaded subjunctive form; one of the best ways to get used to it is simply to memorize some blessings and curses in Irish, since that’s where the subjunctive frequently occurs.  This is a widely used blessing, especially at birthdays or annual holidays or events, but it has always struck me as rather cinniúnaíoch  (fatalistic).

I hope you will. Goodbye and may we both be alive at this time next year.

R: (i gcogar) ‘Sea, a Nola, go mbeire muid beo ar an am seo arís.

(in a whisper) Yes, Nola, may we both be alive at this time next year.

Imíonn R as an gclós agus téann Nola a luí.

R leaves the enclosure and Nola goes to bed.

Mar is eol don domhan, fuair Nola bás ar an 22ú lá de mhí na Samhna, 2015, tamaillín tar éis an chomhrá shamhlaithigh seo.  Bhí sí an-tinn, le heaspaí agus le hionfhabhtú baictéarach. Cuireadh a chodladh go trócaireach í.  Ní gá a rá nár tharla an dara hagallamh.

As the world knows, Nola died on November 22nd, 2015, shortly after this imaginary conversation.  She was very sick, with abscesses and a bacterial infection.  She was put to sleep humanely.  Needless to say, there was no second interview.

Tá trí shrónbheannach bhána thuaisceartacha fágtha ar domhan anois, iad ina gcónaí ag Ol Pejeta Conservancy sa Chéinia.  Tá eagla orm nach fada an lá nuair nach mbeidh a leithéidí féin arís ann, mar a dúradh i gcomhthéacsanna eile faoi chineálacha eile marthanóirí deireanacha.

There are three northern white rhinoceroses left in the world now, they live (lit. them living) at Ol Pejeta Conservancy in Kenya.  I’m afraid that it won’t be long until the likes of them will not exist (lit. “be in it”) again, as was said in another context about other types of final survivors.

Slán leat is mo sheacht mbeannacht leat, a Nola, a shrónbheannaigh ionúin chróga — Róislín

Goodbye and my seven blessings with you, Nola, brave beloved rhinoceros – Róislín

NAISC

First half of translation: Aistriúchán den Chomhrá le Nola, An Srónbheannach (A Translation of the Irish Dialogue with Nola)–Cuid 1/2, Posted on 03. Dec, 2015 by róislín in Irish Language (http://blogs.transparent.com/irish/aistriuchan-den-chomhra-le-nola-an-sronbheannach-a-translation-of-the-irish-dialogue-with-nola-cuid-12/)

Original post (full conversation in Irish): Comhrá (samhlaitheach) le Nola, an Srónbheannach: An Imaginary Conversation in Irish with Nola, The Rhinoceros, Posted on 23. Nov, 2015 by róislín in Irish Language (http://blogs.transparent.com/irish/comhra-samhlaitheach-le-nola-an-sronbheannach-an-imaginary-conversation-in-irish-with-nola-the-rhinoceros/)

Nasc don tearmann Ol Pejeta: http://www.olpejetaconservancy.org/ agus nasc eile ón tearmann, é brónach (reilig na srónbheannach):  http://www.olpejetaconservancy.org/experience/destinations/rhino-cemetery/

Aistriúchán den Chomhrá le Nola, An Srónbheannach (A Translation of the Irish Dialogue with Nola)–Cuid 1/2

Posted on 03. Dec, 2015 by in Irish Language

(le Róislín)

RIP Nola (ca. 1974-2015) , an srónbheannach bán tuaisceartach deireanach a bhí fágtha sa leathsféar thiar. Anois níl ach trí shrónbheannach den fhospeiceas seo fágtha ar domhan, sa Chéinia. (grafaic san fhearann poiblí / public domain graphic: http://www.clipartoday.com/freeclipart/animal/rhinoceros/rhinoceroscartoon_13296.html)

RIP Nola (ca. 1974-2015) , an srónbheannach bán tuaisceartach deireanach a bhí fágtha sa leathsféar thiar. Anois níl ach trí shrónbheannach den fhospeiceas seo fágtha ar domhan, sa Chéinia. (grafaic san fhearann poiblí / public domain graphic: http://www.clipartoday.com/freeclipart/animal/rhinoceros/rhinoceroscartoon_13296.html)

Usually I write these blogs bilingually, but the imaginary conversation with Nola, the 4th-last Northern White Rhinoceros in the world, took on a life of its own in Irish.  So, for the benefit of newcomers to the language, I’ll do an interlinear translation here, with some vocabulary notes and pronunciation interspersed.  This blog will be part one; the translation will continue in the next blog.

The original blog post is at: https://blogs.transparent.com/irish/comhra-samhlaitheach-le-nola-an-sronbheannach-an-imaginary-conversation-in-irish-with-nola-the-rhinoceros/ (Comhrá (samhlaitheach) le Nola, an Srónbheannach: An Imaginary Conversation in Irish with Nola, The Rhinoceros, Posted on 23. Nov, 2015 by in Irish Language)

I’ve also added a few introductory notes like you might find in the script of a play: suíomh, dáta, pearsana.

suíomh: i mo shamhlaíocht ach sin ráite, sa Pháirc Safari de chuid Zú San Diego, mar dhea

dáta: am éigin idir 14 Mí na Samhna 2014 agus 21 Mí na Samhna 2015

pearsana: mise agus Nola

 

R: Dia dhuit, a Nola.

Hello, Nola.

 

N: Dia ‘s Muire dhuit.  Cad is ainm duit?

Hello.  What is your name?

 

R: Mise Róislín.  Agus ‘s é Nola an t-ainm atá ort, nach é?

I’m Róislín.  And your name’s Nola, isn’t it?

 

N: ‘S é, mise Nola.  Tá áthas orm bualadh leat.

Yes, I’m Nola.  I’m happy to meet you.

 

Nóta: “bualadh” [BOO-uh-luh], to hit or strike .  This can be used in many ways that don’t have to do with literal hitting or striking.  So we have “bualadh leat” (bualadh + le + tú) for “to meet you.”  To actually say “to hit you” or “to strike you” (hopefully not really happening), it would be “thú a bhualadh” [hoo uh WOO-uh-luh]

 

R: Agus tá áthas ormsa bualadh leatsa.   Is onóir é.  Ba mhaith liom cúpla ceist a chur ort, mura mhiste leat, mar tá mé ag scríobh ailt fút.

And I’m happy to meet you.  It’s an honor.  I would like to ask you a couple of questions, if you don’t mind, because I’m writing an article about you.

 

Nóta: “ormsa” and “leatsa” are “contrast forms,” used here to show how the conversation flips back and forth between the two speakers.

 

N: Ceart go leor.  Fadhb ar bith.

OK.  No problem.

 

Nóta: remember the pronunciation of “fadhb,” which, for a lot of people, is unusual-looking with the “dhb” consonant cluster.  “Fadhb” rhymes with “tribe” and “vibe;” the “d” is silent.

 

R: Cén sórt luath-óige a bhí agat?

What sort of childhood did you have?

 

N: Ag rith an méid a bhí i mo chraiceann is mó a rinne mé.   Fuaim na ngunnaí i ngach áit agus daoine ag screadach agus ag béicíl i ngach treo.

Running for my life is mostly what I did.  The sound of the guns everywhere and people yelling and screaming in every direction.

 

R: Mar gheall ar …?

Because of …?

 

N: Mar gheall ar na póitseálaithe, drochíde orthu!  Mharaigh siad mo mháthair agus bhí siad sa tóir orm.  Ach tháinig lucht an zú agus shábháil siad mé.  Sheol siad go zú sa bhaile Dvůr Králové nad Labem mé.  Ag an am sin, thart fá 1976, bhí sé sa tSeicslóvaic ach anois is é “Poblacht na Seice” ainm na tíre.  Sa bhliain 1989 seoladh go Meiriceá mé, go dtí an Pháirc Safari de chuid Zú San Diego, an áit a bhfuil muid ann anois.

Because of the poachers, bad scran to them!  They killed my mother and they were chasing me.  But the zoo folks came and they saved me.  They sent me to a zoo in the town of Dvůr Králové nad Labem.  At that time, around 1976, it was in Czechoslovakia but now “the Czech Republic” is the name of the country.  In the year 1989, I was sent to America, to the San Diego Zoo Safari Park, where we are now.

 

R: An dtaitníonn sé leat a bheith i do chónaí anseo?

Do you like (to be) living here?

 

N: Taitníonn, tá na coimeádaithe zú an-chineálta. Tugann siad an bia is fearr liom dom, rudaí mar chairéidí agus úlla.  Agus an rud is fearr, tugann siad cuimiltí boilg agus cuimiltí muiníl dom, agus bíonn siad sin go hálainn.

I do, the zookeepers are very kind.  They give me the food I like the best, things like carrots and apples.  And the best thing, they give me belly rubs and neck rubs, and those are beautiful.

 

R: An bhfuil mórán cairde agat sa zú?

Do you have many friends here?

 

N: Tá, ainmhithe eile agus na coimeádaithe.  Bhí srónbheannach eile, Angalifu, ina chónaí anseo go dtí le déanaí.  Fuair sé bás ar an 14ú lá de mhí na Nollag, 2014.

Yes, other animals and the keepers.  There was another rhinoceros, Angalifu, living here until recently.  He died on the 14th (day) of December in 2014

 

R: Tá an-bhrón orm sin a chluinstin.

I’m very sorry to hear that.

 

N: Is brónach an scéal é.  Níl mórán dár sórt fágtha.  B’eisean an t-aon srónbheannach bán tuaisceartach fireann amháin a bhí ina chónaí sa leathsféar thiar.  Nuair a d’éag sé, d’fhág sin srónbheannach fireann amháin inár bhfospeiceas beo.  Tá seisean san Afraic, sa Chéinia.

It’s a sad story.  There aren’t many of our type left.  He was the only male Northern White Rhinoceros that was living in the western hemisphere.  When he died, that left one male rhinoceros of our subspecies alive.  He’s in Africa, in Kenya.

 

R: Mar sin níl lao srónbheannaigh (lao srónbheannach bán tuaisceartach) ann áit ar bith ar domhan?

So there is no rhinoceros calf (northern white rhinoceros calf) anywhere in the world?

(tuilleadh le teacht sa chéad bhlagmhír eile)

Tá súil agam gur chuidigh sé seo.  Hope this helped. — Róislín

If You’re Going to Give a Belly Rub to a Rhinoceros, Here’s How to Say It in Irish (and some other useful vocabulary)

Posted on 28. Nov, 2015 by in Irish Language

(le Róislín)

Ar mhiste leat cuimilt bhoilg a thabhairt dom? / Would you mind giving me a belly rub? (grianghraf le Petr Kratochvil ag http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/view-image.php?image=9836&picture=rhino-head)

Ar mhiste leat cuimilt bhoilg a thabhairt dom? / Would you mind giving me a belly rub?
(grianghraf le Petr Kratochvil ag http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/view-image.php?image=9836&picture=rhino-head)

We recently posted an imaginary conversation in Irish with Nola (ca. 1974-2015), a Northern White Rhinoceros (Srón-bheannach Bán Tuais-ceartach) whose recent death leaves only three remaining members of her subspecies alive.   The nasc (link) to this article is thíos (below).  Since that blog was almost entirely in Irish, we’ll look at a few vocabulary highlights from the dialogue here, with pronunciation tips.  Some are general enough for use in many real-life conversations and some, admittedly, are rather rhino-specific.  Here goes:

1) Tá áthas orm bualadh leat [taw AW-huss OR-um BOO-uh-luh lyat], I’m pleased to meet you, lit. Happiness (áthas)  is on me to meet you.

2) Fadhb ar bith [FYB  erzh bih, with “FYB” rhyming with English “tribe” or “vibe”, silent “d” in “fadhb,” silent “t” in “bith“], no problem, sometimes shortened to “Fadhb R B.”  There’s no word “no” in the phrase, but the implication in the Nola dialogue is negative.  If written with a question mark, or said with questioning intonation, this phrase can be a question, “Any problem?”  Why no word for “no” in the phrase?  Bhuel, that’s scéal fada, but the nutshell answer is there’s no single discrete word for “yes” or “no” in Irish.  Instead, any verb can be used to answer “yes” or “no” (tá, níl, ‘sea, ní hea, srl.) and there are indirect ways of responding, as well (“Ceart go leor,” i.e. OK/right enough, for positive, “Seans ar bith” for negative, like saying, “No way!”).  Overall, saying “yes” and “no” has infinite varieties in Irish, some of which we may address sa todhchaí.

3) Ag rith an méid a bhí i mo chraiceann [KHRAK-un], running for my life, lit. running the amount that was in my skin

4) póitseálaí, a poacher, plural: póitseálaithe, following the same pattern for the plural as rúnaí / rúnaithe and tógálaí / tógálaithe.

5) cuimiltí boilg [KIM-il-tchee BwIL-ig], belly rubs

6) cuimiltí muiníl [KIM-il-tchee MwIN-yeel], neck rubs.  Is breá le srónbheannaigh na cuimiltí seo!

7) Síleann daoine gur féidir leo afraidíseach [AF-ruh-DEESH-ukh] a dhéanamh as ár n-adharca [ahss awr NY-ur-kuh], People think they can make an aphrodisiac out of our horns, lit. People think that (gur) able/ability (féidir) is with them (leo) an aphrodisiac to make out of our horns.  There are two main words for “horn” in Irish. “Corn” (pl: cuirn) is for musical instruments and cornucopias and “adharc” is for animals, or for … well, never mind (family-friendly blog and all that), but it’s other meaning actually is related to aphrodisiacs.

As for the pronunciation of “adharc,” it’s kind of tricky to represent in a “rough guide” in an English-based transliteration, since the sounds “y” and “ie” and “eye” and “igh” are so convoluted in English spelling.  So I can offer the IPA for “adharc” as /airk/.  Just remember that in IPA, the letters /ai/ mean the sound spelled various ways in English (my, aye, eye, pie, sigh, etc.) — not like the “ai” of ordinary English spelling, as in “rain,” “plain,” or “Spain.”  If you already know the Irish words “radharc” (view) or “fadharcán” (corn, on the foot), then this pronunciation should be a shoo-in.   Anyway, to really break it down, it’s “aye” as in “Aye, aye, sir!” and “irk” as in “to irk someone” (AYE-irk).  I usually try to avoid silent vowels in my rough guides, since dealing with silent letters is one of the main points of my guides, but here it seems unavoidable, with the “-e” of “aye.”  I could try “Y-irk” but it looks odd, even to me, and my hunch is that some people would assume it’s pronounced “why-irk”.

8) lao srónbheannaigh [lee SROHN-VAN-ee], a rhinoceros calf, which, for the Northern White, the world will probably never see again. “Lao” is also used for young cows in general, with several specialized terms (lao scoite, a weanling; lao diúil, a suckling calf, srl.) and also for young seals and some other animals.

9) ag baint na ndeor asam [egg buntch nuh nyor AH-sum] making me cry, lit. striking (of) the tears out of me.  Note the silent “d” of “ndeor,” which has the “n” added through eclipsis, because we’re saying “_of_ the tears,” not just “tears”.  With this change (from “deoir,” the root form), the “d” becomes silent.

10) Go mbeire muid beo ar an am seo arís, May we be alive at this time next year.  A blessing in Irish which has always struck me as a bit “gruama” (gloomy).  More literally, the translation is something like, “May we bear alive/living at this time again.”  The phrase doesn’t really specify the interval of a year, but it’s implied, since this blessing is often used on holidays celebrated once a year.  I don’t think the “bear” part is really in the sense of “endure” or “I can’t stand/bear it”), more like “carry on.”  Bhur mbarúlacha?

At any rate, sin deich bhfrása as an gcomhrá le Nola.  I might post a full translation soon.  Please let me know if that would be helpful.  At any rate, I’ll probably look at some more of the vocabulary from this dialóg soon.  SGF – Róislín

Nasc: http://blogs.transparent.com/irish/comhra-samhlaitheach-le-nola-an-sronbheannach-an-imaginary-conversation-in-irish-with-nola-the-rhinoceros/  (Comhrá (samhlaitheach) le Nola, an Srónbheannach: An Imaginary Conversation in Irish with Nola, The Rhinoceros, Posted on 23. Nov, 2015 by in Irish Language)

Dá mba mhian leat tuilleadh eolais a fháil faoi shrónbheannaigh, seo nasc eile: http://www.rhinoresourcecenter.com/