³ÉÈËÂÛ̳

Somhairle MacGill-Eain

Am faca Tu i, Iùdhaich mhòir,
rin abrar Aon Mhac Dhè?
Am fac’ thu ’coltas air Do thriall
ri strì an fhìon-lios chèin?

An cuallach mheasan air a druim,
fallas searbh air mala is gruaidh;
’s a’ mhias chreadha trom air cùl
a cinn chrùbte bhochd thruaigh.

Chan fhaca Tu i, Mhic an t-saoir,
rin abrar Rìgh na Glòir,
am measg nan cladach carrach siar,
fo fhallas cliabh a lòin.

An t-earrach seo agus seo chaidh
’s gach fichead earrach bhon an tùs,
tharraing ise ’n fheamainn fhuar
chum biadh a cloinne ’s duais an tùir.

’S gach fichead foghar tha air triall
chaill i samhradh buidh nam blàth;
is threabh an dubh-chosnadh an clais
tarsainn mìnead ghil a clàir.

Agus labhair T’ eaglais chaomh
mu staid chaillte a h-anama thruaigh;
agus leag an cosnadh dian
a corp gu sàmhchair dhuibh an uaigh.

Is thriall a tìm mar shnighe dubh
a’ drùdhadh tughaidh fàrdaich bochd;
mheal ise an dubh-chosnadh cruaidh;
is glas a cadal suain a-nochd.

A Highland Woman

Sorley MacLean

Translation author’s own

Hast Thou seen her, great Jew,
who art called the One Son of God?
Hast Thou seen on Thy way the like of her
labouring in the distant vineyard?

The load of fruits on her back,
a bitter sweat on brow and cheek,
and the clay basin heavy on the back
of her bent poor wretched head.

Thou hast not seen her, Son of the carpenter,
who art called the King of Glory,
among the rugged western shores
in the sweat of her food’s creel.

This Spring and last Spring
and every twenty Springs from the beginning,
she has carried the cold seaweed
for her children’s food and the castle’s reward.

And every twenty Autumns gone
she has lost the golden summer of her bloom,
and the Black Labour has ploughed the furrow
across the white smoothness of her forehead.

And Thy gentle church has spoken
about the lost state of her miserable soul,
and the unremitting toil has lowered
her body to a black peace in a grave.

And her time has gone like a black sludge
seeping through the thatch of a poor dwelling:
the hard Black Labour was her inheritance;
grey is her sleep tonight.