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Dàin san Tìm Làthaireach

Present Time Poems

Is Mòide Sin (7.6.2011)

Is mòide m' fhortan sin

a chanas Niall

agus buachar eòin

air tuiteam air a sgrath-mhullaich

It's The Bigger of That

My luck is the bigger of that

says Niall

as birdshit lands

on his top turf!

Dealradh Duaise (20.6.11)

Chan eil fhiosam

dè as motha bheir dealradh

a-steach dham chridhe

's a nì mo thogail:

gleansachd mo bhàsa de Chriostal na Gaillimhe,

na an togail a bh' orm 's mi ga ghiùlan air sràidean na cathrach

's a thig orm uair is uair agus mi ga ghlanadh

a' cur gleans as ùire air a' chuimhne chùbhraidh....

na dìreach gu bheil e agam.

The Glitter of a Prize 

I don't know

what brings most light

into my heart

and uplifts me:

the polish of my vase of Galway Crystal,

or the lift I felt carrying it around the city streets

which comes again and again when I clean it

giving fragrant memory fresh polish...

or just that I have it.

Mairg Mise (29.6.11)

Mairg mise

agus mo leathleabadóir

gan a bheith ina dúiseacht

ó mhoch go dubh:

níl freagra le fáil

ar éileamh grá

ach srann a sróine!

Woe Is Me

Woe is me

with my bedfellow

never awake

from early to late:

there is no answer

to a love request

except a nosy snore!

Mairg Mi-Fhìn

Mairg mi-fhìn

's mo leth-leabaiche chaoidh

gun a bhith na dùisg

o mhoch gu dubh:

freagairt sam bith

air iarrtas gaoil

ach srann a sròine!

Dùil na Slige (9.8.11)

Mìle fàilt' ort,

Dhùil na Slige -

gun dad de mhallachd ort

's tu air do shlighe.

Nochd  thu an seo air cladach lom

as bith cò chuir thu, gaoth neo tonn.

'S ann tha thu deònach fuireach ann

gun tig ort falbh 's gun bhith ann

air slighe do shlige

gun bheannachd gun sìon

seach sìon nan dùil

a tha coma co-dhiù.

Shelly Cratur

A thousand welcomes

o Shelly Cratur -

no curses upon you

as you travel your way.

You've appeared here on a bare shore

whoever sent you, wind or wave.

You are actually happy

to reside right here

until the time comes for you to go

on your shelly way

without blessing or anything

except for elements

which don't give a toss anyway.

Latha na Sìthe gun Sìth (21.9.11)

B' e siud an sìth

nach d' fhuair Fearchar Mac Ill Inneinn bochd

air Latha Eadar-nàiseanta na Sìthe:

cuirte gun iarrtas

sa chladh sa bhaile Ghallda

air latha mas fhìor na sìthe

an 1868.

The Day of Peace with no Peace

Some peace

that poor Farquhar MacLennan didn't get

on International Peace Day:

interred against his wishes

in the graveyard of the town of foreigners

on the supposed day of peace

in 1868.

Mo Chùrsa Fhìn (7.10.11)

'S e nì mi daonnan

mo chùrsa fhìn a leantainn

a dh'aindeoin a bhith gun teisteanas

seach eòlas beatha.

'S mas oilthigh na beatha

m' ionad-ionnsachaidh

chan e gum bithinn gun aodach

a sheallas m' eòlas.

M' fhaireachdainnean fhìn

air oidhche chiùin san eilean

mo thrusgan inbhe:

làithean geala na grèine

a bhiadhaicheas m' inntinn:

deuchainnean na beatha

a bheir ceapagan gu peann,

's iad uile maraon

mar mheadhan-gnìomha

nam chridhe is nam eanchainn.

My Own Course

I always

follow my own course

despite having no qualification

apart from life's knowledge.

And if the university of life

is my learning centre

I'd not be without attire

which shows my knowledge.

My own feelings

on a gentle night in Skye

are my robes of status:

bright days of sunshine

feed my mind:

the tests of life

bring verses to pen,

all of them together

as a medium of action

in my heart and mind.

Calman Soineanta (21.10.11)

Calman geal

a' siubhal gu soineanta

thar chuantan ghorma

ann an speuran gorma:

bu bhuidhe don dùil

a gheibh sealladh luath dhith.

Innocent Dove

White dove

travelling innocently

over blue oceans

in blue skies:

lucky the creature

who gets a quick look at her.

Blas Ùr (4.12.11)

Beag iongnadh

nach gabh daoine ri blas ùr

sa bhad

as bith dè an rud a tha iad ris.

Soighne

Comharradh -

Tha iad mar aon.

Tuigidh mi seo

agus m' athair fhèin

a' toirt ùine nach bu bheag

gabhail ri biadh ùr na h-Eadailte:

am Pàidh Eadailteach

seach an t-Seana-Phàidh Albannach!

Saoil a bheil seo a cheart cho fìor

a thaobh blas ceart na Gàidhlig

a nochdas air mapa

air soighne

air dreach na tìre

uair san tìde ri teachd?

'S dòcha gur rud e

nach tig ri càil a h-uile duine.

A New Taste

No wonder

people won't take to a new taste

instantly

whatever they are engaged in.

A sign

A mark -

They're the same.

I understand this

when my own Dad

took quite a while

to accept new Italian food:

the Italian Pie

rather than the Old Scottish Pie!

Wonder if this is just as true

regarding the proper Gaelic accent/taste

which will appear on a map

on a sign

on the scenery

sometime in the future?

Perhaps it's something

which won't appease everyone's appetite.

Mi nam Eilean (dán a bhuannaich duais, 2012)

Canar

nach eilean an duine:

ach dar leam gur h-e

mas e 's gu bheil e air a chuartachadh

le cuantan imcheist

is tuinn iomachomhairle

(gun luaidh air an iomaghaoithe fhèin)

's gum bi a dhìth air

daingeann a smuain fhèin

mar dhìon an aghaidh saoghal tìr-mòir -

as bith càite bheil sin.

'S chan ann a-mhàin on àrainneachd mun cuairt

a thig cunnartan na beatha

agus iarmailt is talamh ann cuideachd.

Cò chanadh

nach gabh an duine a bhàthadh

fo bhuille chàich?

Chan eil e ann

air nach tèid dragh a chur

aig seasamh is claonadh chàich.

Sin an t-àm

a shireas duine

a thaobh fhèin

ga fhàgail

na eilean a-rithist.

Island (English version: Myles M. Campbell)

It's said

man isn't an island:

but I think he is

if he's surrounded

by troubled seas

and confounded waves

(not to mention the whirlwind itself)

and that he lacks

the bastion of his own thought

as defence against the mainland world

wherever that is.

But not only from the environs

will life's dangers come,

there's sky and earth as well.

Who would say

that a person couldn't be drowned

under others' blows?

There's no-one

who is immune to worry

from others' attitudes and prejudices.

There's the time

one seeks

his own self

leaving him

an island again

Mé im Oileán

Deirtear

nach oileán é an duine:

ach dar liom gurb é

má bhíonn sé dá thimpeallú

ag muir mhearbhaill

agus tonnta míchomhairle

(gan lua ar an iomghaoth cheart)

's go mbeidh de dhíth air

daingean a smaoinimh féin

mar chosaint in éadan saol na mórthíre -

cibé áit ina bhfuil sé sin.

'S ní hamháin ón dtimpeallacht máguaird

a thiocfaidh contúirtí an tsaoil

agus spéir 'gus talamh ann freisin.

Cé a déarfadh

nach féidir an duine a bhá

faoi bhuille daoine eile?

Níl éinne ann

nach mbeidh buartha

de bharr dearcadh 's claonadh daoine eile.

Óir sin é an t-am

a lorgaíonn duine

a thaobh féin

dá fhágáil

ina oileán arís.

Is ceàrd mi (6.4.12)

Is ceàrd mi

a dh'obraicheas ann an ceàrdachd m' inntinne

as bith gum bi mi dubh an aghaidh na dìomhanais

neo geal fo chaoir na gnìomhachais.

Nì mi oidhearp

air rudan àraid a chàradh

leithid

an toll nam chridhe a chaidh fhàgail

aig dìth na Gàidhlig 's na Gaeilge

sna tìrean seo a shiubhail mi

gu tric.

Seans gun tadhail mi air ur taigh

a dh'iarraidh obair-chàraidh a choreigin -

chan àbhaist dhomh spàintean

no miasan

no stuthan gliongadaich

a chur ri chèile:

ach tha fhios gun dèan mi rudeigin.

'S ma thèid mo chur far làrach mo smuaintean

theagamh nach fhaic sibh tuilleadh mi:

tha cuid de rudan

nach càraich mi idir.

I am a Tinker

I am a tinker

who works in the smithy of my mind

whether I am much opposed to idleness

or happy beneath the glow of activity.

I try

to repair certain things

like

the hole left in my heart

by the lack of Scottish and Irish Gaelic

in these lands

I've often travelled.

Perhaps I will visit your house

to request some sort of repair-work -

it's not my norm

to make spoons

or plates

or jingling things of tin:

but surely I can do something.

And if I am put from the site of my thoughts

you probably won't see me any more:

there are some things

I can't repair at all.

An Geàrr-sgeul Ùr Mo Dhàn Beag Nua? (26.4.12)

Geàrr-sgeul

Ùr-sgeul

Sgeul an lùib a h-uile sgeul:

Dè do sgeul?

O bu gheàrr gach luaidh a chluinnear orra

's gun sgeul às ùr

fon ghrèin!

Is My Modern Small Poem a New Short Story?

A short story

A fresh story

A story within a story:

What's your story?

O I wish every mention heard of them was short

since there's no new story

under the sun!

 

Gleann Mòr ann an D (25.12.2013)

Is beag mo ghleann-sa

An taca ris an t-srath a bh’ agaibhse, a sheanair

Nuair a leigeadh sibh puirt is puingean

Èirigh leis a’ ghaoith

Gu saor-ghlan for n-anail.

 

Agus chan eil mi cleachdte fhathast

Ris a’  mhac-talla

A bh’ air dà thaobh ur n-innill

‘S gun agam ach tuill.

 

Theagamh gum bu chùis nàire

Dhuibh fhèin mo chuid seile

Sgaoilte thar beòil

‘S e salach mar uisg’-uillt:

Ach feumar foighidinn

Mus ruigear màthair-uisge

A sgaoileadh gu ceart

Mo cheòl-sa.

 

Big Valley in D

My valley’s small

Compared to the strath you had, granda

When you’d let tunes and notes

Rise with the wind

Cleanly under your breath.

 

And I’m not yet accustomed

To the echo

You had on both sides of your instrument

Having only holes.

 

Possibly it’d be a cause of shame

For you to see my slevers

Scattered over a mouth

Dirty like burn-water:

But patience is needed

Before a mother-source can be reached

Which would properly send out

My music.

Bobhla Buidheachais (10.2.14)

Cha b’ e bobhla dèirce

No eadhan bobhla bàidse

A thug thu dhomh-sa, Andaidh,

‘S mi air impis pòsaidh

An dèidh ceangal nam faclan làidir

A rinn drochaid shaor eadarainn.

 

Agus sinne a tha buidheach

Mo bhean-chèile chòir ‘s mi fhìn

Agus sia bliadhna

Mar chomharra air iomadh beannachd

A thàinig thugainn

Mar gum b’ ann

À bobhla làn na beatha.

A Bowl of Gratitude

It wasn't a begging bowl

or even one for a fee

that you gave me, Andy,

on the point of my marriage

after the bond of the mighty words

which created a free bridge between us.

 

And we are grateful

my wife and I

with six years

marking many a blessing

that came our way

as if from

life's full bowl.

 

Mi nam Eilean Fhathast (a' leantainn air on dàn eile)

Seadh, tha mi fhathast nam eilean

Ach

Seach mar a bha,

Tha mi daingeann misneachail

Chun na h-ìre ‘s gum faodar tadhal orm!

 

Nam sheana-chreag

Air an gabh culaidhean nach tàinig fhathast

Suidhe gu sàbhailt’ air cladach mo leac-dhorais

Cuiridh mi fàilte ‘s furan

Air luchd-cèilidh chuantan.

 

Still an Island (following on from the other poem)

Yes, I’m still an island

But

Rather than how I was,

I am steadfast and confident

To the point where I may be visited!

 

As an old rock

Upon which as yet unarrived vessels can

Sit safely upon the stony beach of my doorstep

I warmly welcome

Oceans’ callers.

 

Im Oileán go Fóill

 

Sea, im oileán atáimse go fóill

Ach

Seachas mar a bhí,

Táim daingean misniúil

‘S go dtabharfar cuairt orm!

 

Im sheana-charraig

Mar a bhféadfaidh báid nár dtáinig go fóill

Suí go sábháilte ar chladach mo leic-dhorais

Fearaim fáilte is fiche

Roimh chuairteoirí farraige.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 




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