An Litir ó Mheiriceá — The Letter from America

A letter, five pounds, and a last line read silently.

Tháinig an litir i mí Feabhra.
The letter came in February.

Bhí stampa Meiriceánach uirthi agus scríbhneoireacht mo dhearthár.
It had an American stamp on it and my brother’s handwriting.

D’fhág sé an baile trí bliana roimhe sin, agus é naoi mbliana déag d’aois.
He had left home three years before that, at nineteen years of age.

Ní raibh obair ar bith le fáil anseo an bhliain sin.
There was no work at all to be had here that year.

Chuaigh sé go Bostún, mar a raibh col ceathrair againn.
He went to Boston, where we had a cousin.

Léigh mo mháthair an litir os ard ag an mbord.
My mother read the letter aloud at the table.

Dúirt sé go raibh sé ag obair ar na foirgnimh.
He said he was working on the buildings.

Dúirt sé go raibh an aimsir fuar ach go raibh an pá go maith.
He said the weather was cold but the pay was good.

Bhí cúig phunt istigh sa chlúdach.
There were five pounds inside in the envelope.

Níor léigh sí an líne dheireanach os ard.
She did not read the last line aloud.

Chonaic mé níos déanaí í: “Ní bheidh mé abhaile i mbliana ach an oiread.”
I saw it later: “I won’t be home this year either.”

Chuir sí an litir sa tarraiceán leis na cinn eile.
She put the letter in the drawer with the others.

A note on this one

The “American letter” was an institution. Money sent home by emigrants kept whole parishes fed for generations — and the letters were read aloud at the table, which is why the last line here matters so much.