Gaelic translation (probably) by Fr Allan MacDonald of Eriskay 1859-1905
Source: https://www.bbc.co.uk/alba/oran/orain/sheas_a_mhathair_stabat_mater/ .
Rough English translation by Tom Dawkes

Sheas a’ mhàthair am bròn bàite Aig Crann-ceusaidh deurach, cràidhteach Am bun a Mic ‘s E ‘n spàirn ro ghoirt.	The mother stood drowned in grief At the crucifixion tree, tearful, tortured, below her son and he struggling in pain.
Cridhe caomh bha brùite, dubhach, Briste ‘g osnaich ‘s a’ tuireadh – Rinn an claidheamh-guin a lot.	A tender heart was bruised, mournful, Broken, sighing and lamenting – The sword point made its wound.
Ochòin! bu chràidhteach is bu chianail Moire Mhàthair bheannaicht’ Chrìosda ‘S E ga phianadh air a’ Chrois.	Alas! most painful and plaintive was Blessed Mary, Mother of Christ, as He was being tortured on the Cross.
Gum bu dubhach, air a lèireadh A bha Moir’ air dhi bhith lèirsinn Dìol ro dhèisneach h-aona Mhic.	That it was sad, in her suffering Mary had a vision for her A very horrible retribution by an only son.
Cò an neach a bhiodh san làthair Chitheadh Màthair Dhè san spàirn sin Nach biodh cràidhteach sileadh dheur?	Who is the person who would be present, would see The Mother of God in that struggle, and would not be wretched and shed a tear?
Cò a b’ urrainn gun bhith brònach Smaoineachadh air cor na h-Òighe Ghabh co-phàirt an dòrainn Chrìosd?	Who could not be sad thinking about the plight of the Virgin and take a share of the torment of Christ?
Airson peacannan a shluaigh fhèin Moire faicinn Ios’ ga chiùrradh, An dèis a sgiùrsadh cruaidh gun iochd;	For the sins of his own people Mary saw Jesus being tortured, after scourging hard without mercy;
Moire faicinn a Mic gràdhaich Air a dhìobairt le chaomh-chàirdean, Dol gu bàs air fiodh na Crois.	Mary saw her beloved Son Abandoned by bosom friends going to die on the wood of the Cross.
Mhàthair uile-ghaolach, tiùbhraich Meud do dhòrainn orms’ a dhrùidheadh Los bhith bròn ‘s a’ tùirse leat;	O all-loving, generous mother, The extent of your sorrow pierces me to be sad and melancholy for you;
Deònaich m’ anam le gaol Chrìosda Bhith na lasair dhèin gun diocladh, Chor ‘s gun toill mi mhiadh ‘s a thlachd.	Grant that my soul with the love of Christ may be intensely aflame and undiminished, so that, undeserving, I may esteem and enjoy it.
Mhàthair naomh, biodh lotan creuchdach Do Mhic Ìosa chaidh a cheusadh Domhain geàrrt’ air clàr mo chridh’;	Holy mother, let wounds heal For the Son of Jesus was crucified A deep cut on the surface of my heart;
Deònaich hòmhsa, Mhoire Mhàthair, Mo cho-roinn de Phàis mo Shlànair Dh’fhuiling air mo sgàth gach nì.	Grant for me, Mother Mary, My share of the Passion of my Saviour Everything suffered because of me.
Thugas dhomh gum bi mi tuilleadh A’ co-bhròn leats’ mar as cubhaidh Thaobh na dh’fhuiling do Mhac rùin;	Give me that I will have more shared grief with you as is fitting compared to what your dear son suffered;
A bhith ad chuideachd taobh ‘Chruinn-cheusaidh Is co-chòir ded dhòrainn fhaotainn, Chuir mi, Mhàthair Dhè, nam ùidh.	To be with you at the Crucifixion You are deservedly saddened, I put, Mother of God, in my interest.
Òigh ro urramach nan òighean, – Na cuir suarach mi, ach deònaich Dhomh co-chòir ded dhòrainn chràidh;	Most honourable virgin of virgins, – Do not despise me, but grant To me the due rights of your torment;
Deònaich gur e bàs m’ Fhir-shaoraidh, Is a Phàis ‘s a chreuchdan craobhach, As culaidh-smaoinich dhomh gach tràth.	Deònaich gur e bàs m’ Fhir-shaoraidh, Is a Phàis ‘s a chreuchdan craobhach, As culaidh-smaoinich dhomh gach tràth.
Gun dèan gaol nan lot mo reubadh ‘S gaol na Fala, gaol ‘Chruinn-cheusaidh, M’anam thoirt fo ghèill ‘s fo dhaors’;	May the love of the wounds tear me apart And the love of the Blood, the love of the Crucifixion, bring my soul under obedience and under bondage’;
Nuair a thèid mi ‘n làthair Chrìosda, Thoirt dhà cunntais air mo ghnìomhan, Cùm bhon teine shìor mi saor.	When I go before Christ, Give him accounts of my deeds, Keep me free from the eternal fire.
Shlànair naoimh, an uair as bàs dhomh, Builich orm air ghaol do Mhàthar Ann am Pàrras crùn na buaidh;	Holy Saviour, when I die, Bestow on me for your Mother’s love There in Paradise the crown of victory;
Nuair a bhios mo chorp gun anail, Deònaich sòlas sìor dham anam Ann an glòir nam Flathas shuas’. Amen.	When my body is without breath, Grant eternal comfort to my soul In the glory of the realm above. Amen.