On Valentine's day we think of love, romance, passion, Ireland... It's a cool and dreary island, with frequent gray days which makes for a passionate group of folks! Let's look at some Irish (there are too many to list here) terms of affection: A chara (uh KHAR-uh): This means friend Mo anam chara (mo anum KHAR-uh): Soul friend, this differs from soul mate, as it can be used in a less romantic sense, and more of a spiritual sense. A stór (uh stohr): My treasure, can be used for a romantic love or for a child, a more general endearment.
A ghrá (uh GHRAH): Love, my love, romantic love.A chroí (uh KHREE): Heart, you are my heart. Swoon! Treasure of my heart: Sweetheart necklace with hidden gold heart.[/caption] Stór mo chroí (stohr muh KHREE) Treasure of my heart, so romantic! A mhuirnín (uh WUR-neen): Darling, in the Midwest we say Darlin'. A chuisle (uh KHUSH-leh): Pulse, the person is blood through your veins. A leanbh (uh LAN-uv): My child, a term of endearment, like your priest calls you. A rúnsearc (uh ROON-shark): Secret love, wow! A passionate endearment indeed! Mo shíorghrá (muh HEER-ggrah): My eternal love, soul mate. M’fhíorghrá (MEER-ggrah): my true love, soul mate. My heart is in you, Birthstone Claddagh Ring Here are some longer phrases, to whisper to your beloved on a cold night. Tá mo chroí istigh ionat. (Taw muh ch(k)ree is-chi un-it) My heart is in you Mo chuid den tsaol. (Muy ch(k)wid den tay-ol) My share of life. Here are a couple of great ones, without the phonetics unfortunately. An luífeása le mo mhuintirse? Would you like to be buried with my people? Now THAT is a marriage proposal, who could resist? Maireann lá go ruaig ach maireann an grá go huaigh. A day lasts until it's chased away but love lasts until the grave. This is sweet, and so true. Finally, a poem by W.B. Yeats When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face; And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars. -William Butler Yeats The Irish, so romantic.