I lár an fhómhair, d’ardaigh tonn an ghaotha ar Na Mórthailte.

In the middle of autumn, the wave of the wind rose on Na Mórthailte.

Bhí gaotha fíochmhara ag séideadh, ag múscailt fuinneamh ón Atlantaigh.

Fierce winds were blowing, stirring energy from the Atlantach.

Bhí Siobhán ann, a bhí ag siúl cois na n-aillte.

Siobhán was there, walking by the cliffs.

Bhí croí trom aici, rud a bhí rannpháirteach i rith, ní amháin na gaotha, ach an saol freisin.

She had a heavy heart, which participated in not just the running of the winds, but life as well.

Lig an ghaolach Siobhán leis na haillte a bheith mar láthair slán do chuimhneacháin lena seanmháthair.

The proximity allowed Siobhán to use the cliffs as a safe place for memories with her grandmother.

Bliain ó shin, rinne an seanmháthair deasghnáth ag Weile, acra in aice leis na haillte.

A year ago, the grandmother had performed a ritual at Weile, an acre by the cliffs.

I measc na gcuimhní, bhí muince idir lámha Siobhán – seodra a bhí mar ancaire i dtaobh an ama.

Among the memories, a necklace was in Siobhán's hands – jewelry that was an anchor for time past.

Ach lá amháin, agus í ag breathnú amach trasna na farraige, sciob an ghaoth nach raibh tuiscint aici ar a luach uirthi.

But one day, as she gazed out across the sea, the wind snatched it away without her realizing its value.

Chuaigh an muince síos agus thit isteach sna carraigeacha.

The necklace went down and fell into the rocks.

Bhí sé ag fadú isteach i scoilt idir an bpoll, go hiomlán anois dílis ó amharc fola.

It slipped into a crevice between the cliffs, now completely hidden from sight.

Bhí Liam, a chara, in éineacht léi an uair sin.

Liam, her friend, was with her at that time.

“Caithfidh tú stad, a Shíobhán,” dúirt sé, agus imní ina ghlór, nuair a d'fhéach sé ar na néalta dorcha a bhí ag druidim ón taobh thiar.

“You have to stop, Siobhán,” he said, with concern in his voice, as he looked at the dark clouds approaching from the west.

“Caithfidh mé é a fháil!” Scairt Siobhán.

“I have to get it!” Siobhán shouted.

Níl sí in ab onta nach gcuirfeadh sí stair na seanmháthar i mbaol.

She couldn't bear the thought of endangering her grandmother's history.

Bhí a súile dubhta ó bhrón ach lán de dhúthracht freisin.

Her eyes were dark from sorrow but also full of determination.

Bhí Aisling, cara ceanúil eile atá dílis, ag glaoch amach.

Aisling, another dear and loyal friend, was calling out.

Ach bhí an domhan ciúin ag éirí, ag éisteacht leis an tarlú earráideach.

But the world was becoming silent, listening to the impending error.

Bhí an stoirm ag teannadh isteach.

The storm was closing in.

Thosaigh toirneach ag bualadh, ag cur a choisir gutha mar réamhléiriú ar an bhfuinneamh a bhí ag bruchtaíl.

Thunder began to clap, casting its vocal chords as a prelude to the energy brewing.

D'imigh an t-aermharaigh ar nós titim.

The atmosphere shifted like a fall.

D’ísligh an teocht, agus thosaigh báisteach ag titim go trom.

The temperature dropped, and rain began to fall heavily.

Ná bac leis na contúirtí, shaigh Siobhán an t-aill.

Ignoring the dangers, Siobhán edged down the cliff.

D’fhéach sí anuas agus léirigh sí rud éigin ag luachair sa charraig.

She looked down and spotted something shimmering in the rock.

Bhí gliondar i súil an mhúirnín.

There was a sparkle in her joyous eyes.

Ag baol an taoide ar a tsábháilteacht, shín sí síos go stuama agus teacht ar a gcloch.

With the tide threatening her safety, she carefully reached down to grasp the stone.

An gaire a bhí sí, ba mhó a d'éirigh an stoirm.

The closer she got, the stronger the storm became.

Ach níor stop sí.

But she did not stop.

Sa deireadh, baineann sí an muince lena lámh agus tarraingíonn siar í teoranta.

In the end, she retrieved the necklace with her hand and pulled back to safety.

Leanfadh na scamaill dubha anois go mór thart timpeall na haillte.

The dark clouds now loomed heavily around the cliffs.

D’fheictí an t-atmaisféar go trom mar na céadta bliain agus an bháisteach ag líonadh an seannaorach.

The atmosphere resonated as in centuries past with the rain filling the ancient aura.

Rith sí go gasta ar ais chuig áit slán.

She quickly ran back to a safe place.

Díreach mar a bhain sí clúdach le Liam agus Aisling, líon an stoirm an taobh eile eile den aill.

Just as she reached shelter with Liam and Aisling, the storm engulfed the other side of the cliff.

An chéad bhealach an spás thuas, shásaimh sí.

In the upper expanse, she felt satisfied.

Tógacht na bhfocal óna seanmháthair thart uirthi.

The words from her grandmother wrapped around her.

Ní raibh an muince caillte arís.

The necklace was not lost again.

Bhí brú as a croí.

A weight was lifted from her heart.

I ndiaidh na coise tinne, bhruith Siobhán amach i bhfuinneamh an stoirm mar chuimhneachÁn ar an saol agus mar shuaimhneas do mhuirthuiscint a d'fhaigh sí cibé áit a bhí aici anois.

After the ordeal, Siobhán burst forth with the storm's energy as a memory of life and as a peace for a newfound understanding she had, wherever she was now.

Ag an deiridh, bhí tuiscint níos géire aici ar naisc an ghains – idir solas an tsaoil agus sollúnta an bháis.

In the end, she had a sharper understanding of the bonds of existence – between the light of life and the solemnity of death.

Faoi na scamaill dhubha, thosaigh an saol arís agus bhí sí sásta anois.

Under the dark clouds, life began anew, and she was content now.