Oh pleasant is the humming of the big wild bees
In the blossoming brambles on a fine (weather) day,
When the sun (is resplendent) shines over hill and brae
And the world smiles by the light of the day.

But the sweetest sound that is heard there is the sound of the bee(s) amidst the flowers of the hilltops
When the honeyed wings sound in the sky
And of the whole hill a sweet harp is made.

O give me the wild moor (hill, mountain) when the heather's in bloom
On a clear summer sky with no fog nor shadow
Brambles in blossom on all sides of me
And the humming of bees in the sky overhead.

That is my shot at translating it. feach ar "Foclóir Gaedhilge agus Béarla" leis an tAthair Pádruig Ó Duinnín do "scoth" Bré (Brí Chualann - Bray) smúid deallruigh (deallruigheann)
Sin í mo chuid.
Micheál