I fond this at http://mitglied.lycos.de/fiddler/norway01/

'TIS MY BITTER SORROW
(Sé Fáth Mo Bhuartha: traditional, translation by Bryan McMahon)

'Tis my bitter sorrow that by tomorrow
I go not out to my true love's bower
Where the stream that's running spills purest honey
And in wintertime see, the branch in flower.
No frost, no snowing; no red wind blowing
By the bright abode of my secret queen
But her body moving with the salmon's beauty
And her hair ashine like the barley green.

Oh may God be praised for young women's laughter
Tho' it scald the heart of one grey and cold
And may God be praised for the bitter rapture
That takes my body as in days of old
For Satan has me as a black companion
When I cast my thoughts on what might have been
On her body moving with the salmon's beauty
And her hair ashine like the barley green.