Bhí an ghaoth fíochmhar ag séideadh go tréan ar Chláirseacha Mhothair.

The fierce wind was blowing strongly at Mothair's Cliffs.

Saoradh na tonnta géara ar na haillte, amhail is dá mbeadh na farraigí ag iarraidh an domhan a thógáil pastigh orthu.

Sharp waves crashed against the cliffs, as if the seas wanted to conquer the land.

Bhí an fo-thuaim sin eagerly compánaíocht fear óg darb ainm Declan.

This relentless backdrop was joined eagerly by a young man named Declan.

Bhí Declan lán dóchais agus neamhchúrsaíochta, a lámh i gcluichí leibissor einne bhliain d’aois.

Declan was full of hope and carefreeness, his hand intertwined with that of someone new.

Bhí plean aige, plean speisialta ar an lá áirithe seo.

He had a plan, a special plan for this particular day.

In aice leis, shiúil Aoife go gasta, a hanam á céasadh leis an aimsir a bhí ag réabadh agus na cuimhní brónacha óna croí.

Beside him, Aoife walked quickly, her soul burdened by the tearing weather and sad memories weighing on her heart.

Cé go raibh na scamaill dubha ag bailiú os a gcionn, agus an stoirm ag éirí níos giorra, níor staon Declan.

Even though dark clouds were gathering above them and the storm was approaching swiftly, Declan did not falter.

Bhí seisean dírithe ar a ghrá do Aoife a chur in iúl dóibh beirt, cé gur léir bonn creatha sa spéir os a gcionn.

He was determined to express his love for Aoife, despite the clear rumble in the sky above.

Bhí fonn air titim ar a ghlúin ós a comhair agus an cheist a chur.

He yearned to drop to his knee before her and ask a question.

Bhí sé agus Aoife ar thaobh an chnoic, an radharc álainn faoi bhagairt anois ag an drochaimsir.

They stood on the hillside, the beautiful view now threatened by the worsening weather.

“Seo é mo chuimhne ón tsean aimsir,” a dúirt Declan.

“This is my memory from old times,” Declan said.

“Ní dhéanfaimid dearmaid ar an áit seo riamh.” D'fhéach Aoife air, a cuid smaointe ag stríoctha ag an gciaróg íon dubhach sin den ábhar a bhí á phlé.

“We will never forget this place.” Aoife looked at him, her thoughts scratched by the pure, gloomy bug of the subject at hand.

Is ann a thosaigh an stoirm ag déanamh ceoil dá cuid féin.

It was then that the storm started making its own music.

Báistí ag titim go tapa, cosán sleamhain roimh a gcosa.

Rain fell rapidly, the path slippery beneath their feet.

Anois, ba chuma le Declan faoin aimsir.

At this moment, the weather didn't matter to Declan.

Bhí Aoife níos tábhachtaí.

Aoife was more important.

Ach fós, bhí an ciarsúir sin cruogach i n-aigne Aoife.

Yet still, that nagging worry lingered in Aoife’s mind.

Tugaim ceann-urrartha do Declan a n-áit a chur ina n-ilth.

Declan offered a steadfast promise to their place in the world.

Nuair a mheas Declan go raibh sé réidh, scaoileadh le buafás gutha in a ghaoth.

When Declan felt ready, he released a breath with a burst in the wind.

“Aoife,” a ruaigh sé os ard, “Gráim thú níos mó ná na focail féin. Ar mhaith leat... ar mhaith leat pósadh?”

“Aoife,” he called out loudly, “I love you more than words themselves. Would you... would you marry me?”

Ansin chonaic sé í, fanacht ann idir an radharc dochreidte agus an bás nádúr.

Then he saw her, standing there between the incredible view and nature’s wrath.

Bhí eagla ar Aoife an buille cinniúnach a ghlacadh.

Aoife was afraid to take the fateful step.

Ach le fuinneamh an stoirm agus a mhacallaí corraithe, thit Declan ar a ghlúin.

But with the storm's energy and its stirring echoes, Declan fell to his knees.

I gáire beag agus cuid dá fhiacla, dúirt Aoife, “Tá mo saol déanta i bpeannbhreac mar gheall ar sheansanna nár ghlac mé. Gabh mo leithscéal. Ach an bhfuil tú cinnte? Is féidir linn fanacht ar fíochmhár fós é.”

With a small laugh, revealing some of her teeth, Aoife said, “My life has been made a sketch by chances I didn’t take. Forgive me. But are you sure? We can still wait for it to be fierce.”

Bhí an stoirm ag dul i bhfeabhas ansin.

Then the storm began to improve.

An báisteach ag stopadh agus an ghaoth ag laghdú, agus chonaic siad a rian an bhogha báistí ag teacht ar ais san spéir.

The rain stopped, the wind calmed, and they saw the trace of a rainbow returning to the sky.

Nuair a d’éirigh Declan ar a cosa, bhí sé fliuch go craiceann, ag gáire.

When Declan stood up, he was soaked, yet laughing.

“Tá a fhios agam anois nárbh é an t-am is fearr é!”

“I know now it wasn’t the best time!”

Aithníodh an nasc idir an dá chara anuraidh a thaithin leo araon.

The bond between the two friends was evident, something they both cherished from the previous year.

Rith fuil an stoirm orthu a bheith le chéile.

The storm's influence ran through them, urging them to be together.

Bhí Declan fíor-fhonn agus Aoife os a comhair.

Declan was earnest, and Aoife stood before him.

Agus mar gheall ar shocht mhoncaí, ghlac sí an seans sin a bhí imithe i bhfad ró-fhada.

And because of a monkey’s silence, she seized the chance that had lingered too long.

“Sea,” arsa Aoife, agus gan focal dá moill.

“Yes,” said Aoife, without any hesitation.

Nárach san imirce, d'fhág an stoirm go raibh braon gheal ag teacht, agus bhí an spéir níos soiléire arís.

Ashamed in migration, the storm left behind a bright drop, and the sky was clear once more.

Bhí an fathach seo léirscríofa.

This giant was uncompromising.

Uaireanta, féadtar a rá go bhfuil sé i gcinneadh ainninn thábhachtach nó cinntithúil fiú nuair a shroichtear saol tar éis stoirm mhór.

Sometimes, it’s said that making an important or vital decision can be as life-changing as weathering a great storm.

De na cinntí seo, bhí Declan agus Aoife ar aghaidh ar an saol, agus boscaí i scaoileadh na gréine.

From such decisions, Declan and Aoife moved forward in life, greeted by the bursting sunshine.