Bhí Siobhan ag breathnú amach an fhuinneog ar maidin, ag féachaint ar na cnoic mhaola glasa a cheiltigh faoin bhfrost gheimhridh.

Siobhan was looking out the window in the morning, watching the green, bald hills hidden under the winter frost.

Bhí sí ag súil go mór le dul go dtí an margadh feirmeoireachta.

She was really looking forward to going to the farmer's market.

Bhí sí ag lorg inspioráide.

She was seeking inspiration.

Bhí a cuid pictiúir fós ar an ngan-chrích, bán, gan anam.

Her paintings were still unfinished, blank, without soul.

Bhí an-eagla uirthi nach bhféadfadh sí aon rud nua a chruthú.

She was very afraid that she wouldn’t be able to create anything new.

Chuaigh sí léi go dtí an margadh.

She went to the market.

Bhí Niall agus Fiona ag teacht léi.

Niall and Fiona were coming with her.

Bhí an t-aer fuar agus úr, agus bhí boladh na dtorthaí úra agus na n-ullmhóidí iontacha timpeall.

The air was cold and fresh, and there was the scent of fresh fruits and wonderful preparations all around.

Bhí corr-cheol ar siúl ag cúpla déantóir ann.

There was odd music being played by a few artisans there.

Focal amháin a d'fhéadfadh cur síos a dhéanamh ar an áit, 'níos faoistine'.

One word could describe the place, 'more confessional'.

Ach bhí cuimhne Siobhan trom.

But Siobhan's mind was heavy.

Agus iad ag siúl, shocraigh sí dul níos moille.

As they walked, she decided to go slower.

Bheartaigh sí labhairt leis na feirmeoirí, na déantóirí.

She planned to talk to the farmers, the artisans.

Bhí Fiona ar bís ag ceannach subh agus Niall ag iarraidh pónairí.

Fiona was excited about buying jam and Niall was looking for beans.

Siobhan, áfach, bhí rud éigin speisialta uirthi a aimsiú - an scéal féinspleáchta i ngach táirge.

Siobhan, however, was on a mission to find something special – the self-contained story in each product.

Nuair a bhí sí i lár an mhargaidh, chonaic sí seanbhean le fuála álainn uaithi.

When she was in the middle of the market, she saw an old woman beside her with beautiful embroidery.

D'fhéach an bhean anonn chuici.

The woman looked over to her.

"Dia dhuit," a dúirt Siobhan go cúthail.

"Hello," said Siobhan shyly.

Thosaigh an bhean ag insint scéal faoi conas a d’fhoghlaim sí an fuála óna seanmháthair.

The woman began telling a story about how she learned embroidery from her grandmother.

Scéal iontach a bhí ann, sibhialta, iomlán le traidisiún agus imeachtaí stairiúla.

It was a wonderful story, civilized, filled with tradition and historical events.

Bhí na dathanna agus na patrúin ar dhríodán an bheatha féin.

The colors and patterns were a sediment of life itself.

Bhí rud éigin ag rith trí chroí Siobhan agus í ag éisteacht leis an mbean.

Something was running through Siobhan's heart as she listened to the woman.

Bhí sí mesmerized.

She was mesmerized.

Scaoileadh a hintinn, agus smaoinigh sí ar conas a d'féadfadh sí an fuála scéalach seo a thaispeáint ina hathchruthú féin.

Her mind was liberated, and she thought about how she could display this storytelling embroidery in her own recreation.

D'éirigh a croí solas.

Her heart lightened.

Nuair a d'fhág sí an margadh, ní amháin go raibh píosa beag fite ina lámha aici, ach bhí oidhreacht de phaisean fite ansin freisin.

When she left the market, she not only had a small woven piece in her hands, but also a legacy of passion woven there too.

Bhí nádúr agus bailiú scéalta nua tarraingthe amach uirthi.

The nature and collection of new stories had captivated her.

Chuaigh sí abhaile le caithe corraghaireach aisteach agus sceitimíní iontach i dtaca léi.

She went home with a curious creative hunger and a wonderful excitement about her.

Ag fágáil an mhargaidh, d'fhéach sí amach ar na cnoic mhaola glasa, a raibh cuma níos gile orthu anois, díreach cosúil lena smaointe féin.

As she left the market, she looked out at the green, bald hills, which now looked brighter, just like her own thoughts.

Bhí Siobhan athchroíthe agus chuaigh sí i mbun oibre ar a tionscadal nua.

Siobhan was rejuvenated and set to work on her new project.

Bhí a fioseanna rud éigin níos measa: bhí siad beo arís.

Her visions were something more intense: they were alive again.