| Turas an Asainte | Once in Assynt |
 |
|
| Turas an Asainte | Once in Assynt |
| Gàire tro Ghleann Lèireag, seanachas sa Chaolas Chumhang, dà cheud ràith a’ tuiteam dhìot; beòthail faileas d’ òige ait am measg thaibhsean air gainmheach Sgobharaidh; nad leum thar nan crìochan ghlac creathaill mo làimhe eòin chlis do chuimhne. Reoth sùil na h-èilde air sliabh Chuinneig, shearg a’ chnò challtainn an clais mo theanga, Loch Asainte air traoghadh gun fhios dhomh, cnàmhan donn na cuimhne nan slèibhtrich air grunnd tioram. Anns an eadar-thràth eadar an dà anail eadar Asainte is Leòdhas Sgobharaidh is Diluain shiubhail thu tro bheàrnan mo mheòir nad ghainmheach mhìn bhlàth gu luath. |
Laughter through Glen Leireag, story-telling across Kylesku, two hundred seasons falling off you; lively the shadow of your youth joyful amongst ghosts on the sand in Scourie; in your leap over the boundaries the cradle of my hand caught your memory’s darting birds. The hind’s eye froze on the slope of Quinag, the hazelnut withered in the hollow of my tongue, Loch Assynt drained empty unknown to me, the brown bones of memory lay strewn on a dry bed. In the interval between the two breaths between Assynt and Lewis Scourie and Monday you sped through gaps in my fingers as fine warm sand to ashes. |
|
|
||
Iain moireach/
John Murray |
||
| Ealaíontóir/Artist: Peannaire/Calligrapher: Aistritheoir/Translator: Ainmníodh ag/Nominator: |
Sigrid Shone Réiltín Murphy The Author The Author |
|