I remember, far away in the past, I had my own lullaby. Today, perhaps lullaby is the most endangered trasures above the today world. So when I hear the song of which language comes from distant land, it makes me feel warm and comfortable.
A naoidhean bhig, cluinn mo ghuth
Mise ri d’ thaobh, O mhaighdean bhàn
Ar rìbhinn òg, fàs a’s faic
Do thìr, dìleas féin
A ghrian a’s a ghealach, stiùir sinn
Gu uair ar cliù ‘s ar glòir
Naoidhean bhig, ar rìbhinn òg
Maighdean uasal bhàn
It said, “Little baby, hear my voice. I’m beside you, O maiden fair. Our young Lady, grow and see. Your land, your own faithful land. Sun and moon, guide us. To the hour of our glory and honour. Little baby, our young Lady. Noble maiden fair.”
I can see back, to the world where I grew up, to the time when climb up. So, what shall we have for future? I think a full step forward for a cup of peaceful time.
Bhyllabus l'énigme 
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