Nua-bhàrdachd: Gàidhlig / Contemporary Gaelic poetry from Scotland: Meg Bateman

Posted: November 30, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: English, Gaelic: Scottish, Meg Bateman | Comments Off on Nua-bhàrdachd: Gàidhlig / Contemporary Gaelic poetry from Scotland: Meg Bateman
ZP_A nineteenth-century illustration, Spear-plume thistle or Cirsium vulgare, which was the original native Scotch Thistle until the arrival in the middle ages of the tougher, spinier and more impressive Onopordum acanthium.

ZP_A nineteenth-century illustration, Spear-plume thistle or Cirsium vulgare, which was the original native Scotch Thistle until the arrival in the middle ages of the tougher, spinier and more impressive Onopordum acanthium.

 

Meg Bateman (born 1959, Edinburgh, Scotland)

“Mother”

.

We looked at the stars for a while

Before we turned in with the dogs,

And you said it was high time

You learnt their names properly.

.

But soon you will be among them yourself

And I will be the one trying to name you;

You whose nature I have seen

Only as their faint points of light –

.

As you labour behind duty,

Behind house-work, farm-work, books,

And who knows if you have your reward

For your care and effort and exhaustion.

.

I wish I could kindle a joy in you

That would let me see you whole

Or you won’t be further when you go

Than you were tonight at my side.

 

.     .     .

 

“Màthair”

.

Bha sinn a’coimhead nan rionnag

mus do thionndaidh sinn a-steach leis na coin,

is thuirt thu gum bu mhithich dhut

na h-ainmean aca ionnsachadh gu ceart.

.

Ach chan fhada gus am bi thu fhèin nam measg

’s is mise a bhios a’feuchainn ri d’ainmeachadh,

thusa aig nach fhaca mi do nàdar

ach mar phriobadh fann an cuid solais –

.

Is tu riamh an ceann do dhleastanais,

mu chòcaireachd, caoraich, leabhraichean;

a bheil fios an d’fhuair thu do dhìol

airson do dheataim is spàirn is sgìths?

.

O gun lasainn de dh’aighear annad

na leigeadh leam d’fhaicinn gu slàn,

no chan fhaide thu bhuam nuair a shiùbhlas tu

nab ha thu rim thaobh a-nochd.

 

.     .     .

 

“Lightness”

.

It was your lightness that drew me,

The lightness of your talk and your laughter,

The lightness of your cheek in my hands,

Your sweet gentle modest lightness;

And it is the lightness of your kiss

That is starving my mouth,

And the lightness of your embrace

That will let me go adrift.

 

.     .     .

 

“Aotromachd”

.

B’ e d’ aotromachd a rinn mo thaladh,

Aotromachd do chainnte’s do ghaire,

Aotromachd do lethchinn nam lamhan,

D’ aotromachd lurach ur mhalda;

Agus ‘s e aotromachd do phoige

A tha a’ cur trasg air mo bheoil-sa,

Is ‘s e aotromachd do ghlaic mum chuairt-sa

A leigeas seachad leis an t-sruth mi.

 

.     .     .

 

“O Bonnie Man, Lovely Man”

.

O bonnie man, lovely man,

You’ve brought a song to my lips,

.

A spring of clear gushing water

Spilling over the rocks,

.

Soft grasses and bracken

Covering my slopes with green;

.

Your bed is in cotton-grass

With curlews calling in flight,

.

Maytime’s sweet drizzle

is settling about me,

.

Giving mirth and voice

to my soils long barren,

.

O bonnie man, lovely man,

You’ve brought a song to my lips.

 

.     .     .

 

“Fhir luraich ’s fhir àlainn”

.

Fhir luraich ’s fhir àlainn,

thug thu dàn gu mo bhilean,

.

Tobar uisge ghil chraobhaich

a’ taomadh thar nan creagan,

.

Feur caoin agus raineach

a’ glasadh mo shliosan;

.

Tha do leabaidh sa chanach,

gairm ghuilbneach air iteig.

.

Tha ceòban cùbhraidh na Màighe

a’ teàrnadh mu mo thimcheall,

.

’S e a’ toirt suilt agus gutha

dham fhuinn fada dìomhain,

.

Fhir luraich ’s fhir àlainn,

thug thu dàn gu mo bhilean.

 

 

.     .     .     .     .

All poems © Meg Bateman