My Wild Irish Rose

Thlawhhma emaw, ramhnuaia i kalin ram pangpar par vul lai i hmu tawh ngai em? Khawpui bawlhhlawh reng rengin a  tih bawlhhlawh ve ngai loh, mihring kut hleiin a la khawih chingpen ngai reng reng loh, mihring te ropuina leh hausak lungkhamna hahthlak engmahin a delh rih ve loh ram pangpar, dai leh ramhnuai kawng sira zalen taka a mawina leh thianghlimna zawng zawng nena a par chhuang lai hi i hmu ve tawh ngai em? Heng ram pangpar te anga thianghlim, zalen leh engthawl, a hmutu apiang te tana hahdam sawng sawng theihna khawp mawina par chhuangtu ang hi mihringah hian a awm theih ang em?

 Irish-American hla phuah thiam leh producer Chauncey Alcott chuan kum 1899 khan hla mawi tak ‘My Wild Irish Rose’ phuah chhuahna atan a lo hmang daih tawh asin!

If you'll listen, I'll sing you a sweet little song,
Of a flower that's now drooped and dead,
Yet dearer to me, yes, than all of its mates,
Tho' each holds aloft its proud head.
'Twas given to me by a girl that I know,
Since we've met, faith, I've known no repose,
She is dearer by far than the world's brightest star,
And I call her my wild Irish Rose.

Min ngaithla la, hla mawi leh lungkuai ka han sak sak ang che

Par mawi, a mawina chuai tawh leh hnah til tawh chanchin chu

A duhawmna erawh ka tan a la hlu ber fo, par dang zawng te ai paw’n

An parmawina zawng zawng nena an vul ai paw’n

Chu pangpar min petu nula chu ka hmelhriat a ni

Ka tawnni atanga ka thinlung chawlhna, hahdamna ka hriat ngai loh ka hmuhna chu

Khawvar lam arsi eng ber ai pawha eng mawi duhawm

Ka Irish ram pangpar tia ka koh ngei mai chu

My wild Irish Rose,
The sweetest flow'r that grows,
You may search ev'rywhere,
But none can compare
With my wild Irish Rose.
My wild Irish Rose,
The dearest flow'r that grows,
And some day for my sake,
She may let me take
The bloom from my wild Irish Rose.

Ka Irish ram pangpar duhawm

Par azawnga mawi ber mai chu

Khawvel hruat chhuakin zawng mah la

A chhing zo i hmu hlei lawng e

Ka Irish ram pangpar duhawm chu

Ka Irish ram pangpar duhawm

Par azawnga duhawm ber

Engtik ni-ah emaw chuan a par

Ka thliah a la phal ve mial mahna

Ka Irish par mawi  duhawm chuan

They may sing of their roses which, by other names,
Would smell just as sweetly, they say,
But I know that my Rose would never consent
To have that sweet name taken away.
Her glances are shy when e'er I pass by
The bower, where my true love grows;
And my one wish has been that some day I may win
The heart of my wild Irish Rose.

An pangpar mawi te chu an hming chhuang takin an lam ang

An par rimtuizia te pawh an sawi chamchi ang

Mahse, ka pangpar mawi duhawm erawh chuan

A hming duhawm chu thlak a phal ve ngai lovang tih ka hria

Ka kal pelh apiangin a duhawmna chuan min lo melh thin

Ka thinlung neitu, mawi taka a vulna hmunah chuan

Ka duhsam ber hi engtikah emaw chuan a lo la thleng ang

Ka Irish ram pangpar thinlung ka neihsak ni chu!

            Be that Irish Rose for someone, somewhere! Tu emaw tan, i bula mite tan, i chhungte tan, i hmangaih tan Irish ram pangpar mawi tak angin lo vul zel ang che.