Bhuail an ghaoth arda.

The wind rose fiercely.

D'ardaigh na tonnta.

The waves surged.

Bhí Aoife agus Cian ar bharr na gClár Neamhaí.

Aoife and Cian were atop the Celestial Cliffs.

Bhí gorm na spéire iontach álainn.

The blue of the sky was exceptionally beautiful.

Ach ansin, tháinig scamaill dorcha.

But then, dark clouds appeared.

"Aoife, an bhfeiceann tú é sin?" arsa Cian go cúramach.

“Aoife, do you see that?” Cian said cautiously.

Bhí aoibh gháire air, ach bhí imní ina shúile.

He had a smile on his face, but his eyes were full of concern.

"Feicim, Cian," d'fhreagair Aoife.

“I see it, Cian,” Aoife replied.

"Tá an stoirm ag teacht."

“The storm is coming.”

Bhí siad an-ghar do imeall na n-aillte.

They were very close to the edge of the cliffs.

Bhí an t-aer lán le teannas.

The air was filled with tension.

Tháinig an ghaoth níos láidre agus níorbh fhada go raibh siad fliuch go craiceann.

The wind grew stronger, and soon enough, they were soaked to the skin.

Thosaigh an báisteach ag titim go trom.

The rain began to fall heavily.

Bhí orthu foscadh a fháil, ach bhí aonar.

They needed to find shelter, but they were alone.

"Cian, tá faitíos orm," a dúirt Aoife.

“Cian, I’m scared,” said Aoife.

"Ní féidir linn fanacht anseo."

“We can’t stay here.”

Bhí na cuimhní cinn uirthi.

Memories flooded her mind.

Bhí sí agus Cian cairde le fada.

She and Cian had been friends for a long time.

Ach, bhí rudaí nár phléigh siad riamh.

But there were things they had never discussed.

"Tá orainn aghaidh a thabhairt ar an méid atá idir muid," a dúirt Cian.

“We have to face what’s between us,” Cian said.

"Níl an t-am againn rudaí a shéanadh."

“We don’t have time to deny things anymore.”

D’eitil duilleoga ar fud na háite.

Leaves flew everywhere.

Bhí an ghaoth ag ardú.

The wind was rising.

Fuair siad cúlra in áit bheag faoi charraig.

They found refuge in a small spot under a rock.

Bhí siad gonta agus tite.

They were worn out and cold.

Shleamhnaigh Aoife, agus greim Liriceoir ag Cian uirthi.

Aoife slipped, and Cian grabbed her securely.

Phóg sé í go tapa agus iad ag titim isteach san foscadh.

He kissed her quickly as they found shelter.

"Aoife," arsa Cian go bog, "Tá caint ann nár labhraíomar riamh... cén fáth a mhothaíonn ár gcroí mar seo?"

“Aoife,” Cian said softly, “There are words we’ve never spoken... why do our hearts feel this way?”

Bhí faitíos ar Aoife.

Aoife was frightened.

Bhí a croí ag preabadh go buile.

Her heart was racing wildly.

"Cian, is fada liom grá," a d’admhaigh sí go híseal.

“Cian, I’ve loved you for a long time,” she confessed quietly.

"Ach bhí an t-am i gcónaí mícheart."

“But the timing was always wrong.”

Tháinig ciúnas ar an stoirm.

The storm began to calm.

Bhí fuaim na dtonnta níos deise.

The sound of the waves was gentler.

Thug Cian barróg uirthi.

Cian gave her a hug.

"Anois tá na focail ceart," d’fhógair sé.

“Now the words are right,” he declared.

"Ní bheidh mé in easnamh ort.

“I won’t be absent from you.

Is tú mo chroí."

You are my heart.”

D'fhéach Aoife isteach ina shúile.

Aoife looked into his eyes.

"Ní mór dúinn aghaidh a thabhairt ar an stoirm taobh istigh," arsa sí, "ach tá an tsíocháin seo, ag dul ar aghaidh le chéile."

“We must face the storm inside,” she said, “but this peace, moving forward together.”

Chuaigh an stoirm thart agus shín gréine trí na scamaill.

The storm passed and sunlight broke through the clouds.

Bhí gach rud ciúin.

Everything was calm.

D'ardaigh na Clár Neamhaí arís, ach le croíthe níos mó.

The Celestial Cliffs rose again, but with bigger hearts.

Aoife agus Cian, lámh ar lámh, i dteannta a chéile i gcónaí.

Aoife and Cian, hand in hand, together always.

Críoch.

The End.