FON A’ SPEUR TROM

Posted by in Poems on Aug 11, 2013

‘Se a cheud bhalach le ball

air an t-sràid a tha ‘na ghaisgeach.

 

Chan eil seanalair am measg an t-sluaigh.

“Cha chuala mi càil, cha chuala mi càil,”

 

ars na calmain; is tha an sluagh a’ feitheamh.

 

Chan eil ceò; chan eil teine;

Tha a’ chaigealt fuar fhathast;

 

Is tha an sluagh a’ feitheamh.

 

 

 

 

 

BENEATH A HEAVY SKY

 

The first boy on the street with a ball

is a hero. There’s no general among the people.

 

“I heard nothing at all, I heard nothing at all,”

say the doves, and the people wait.

 

There’s no smoke, no fire;

the hearth is cold yet,

 

and the people wait.