A’ sealladh bu mhuladaiche a chunnaic mi riamh
Se ar taigh na sheasamh gun chùrtairean
A’ falamhachd shùilean fosgailte ud de thaigh-reicte
air fhàgail.
Ghabh sinn an sealladh mu dheireadh mun cuairt na rumanan
A’ cluintinn dìreach am mac-talla aig ar ceumanan fhein
Far am b’àbhaist gàireachdaich a bhith agus
fuaimean gaoil feasgar.
O cho neo-thoileach a shlaod mi mo shùilean air falbh
Fhad’s a bha thusa mi-fhoighidneach an cràdh fhàgail
Na cuimhneachain ro throm am fulang ann a’ sìth
Gun roinn de rànaich.
Agus le aon chnag de shneic an dorais bha e deànte
Sheas sinn taobh a-muigh an taighe nach robh leinn a-nis
Chaneil an seòrsa facial ud anns a’ chànain againne
Chaneil mise agus thusa ann tuilleadh.
Chaneil an còrr seallaidhean ann tarsaing a’ Chaoil ann an grèin neo uisge
Tha ar slighichean air ar toirt gu Fionnphort agus gu
deas gu Tìr Mor agus an sin tha iad air dealachadh
An Ear san Iar.
Bha bruidhinn eadarsainn air càirdeas ciùin
Agus airson greiseag dheàrrs a’ ghrian
Ach cha robh sin ach goirid nuair a thàinig an fhìrinn gum chridhe
Diochuimhnichidh tu mì.
This is actually a translation by Ann MacDonald, a native of South Uist, of one of my poems. She did it on her own initiative, and sent it to me.
The original runs thus:
The saddest sight I have ever looked upon
was our cottage standing bereft of curtains
that open-eyed emptiness of a sold house
being abandoned
We have taken our last glance around the rooms
hearing only the echo of our own footfalls
where once there was laughter and the sounds of love
in the afternoon
How reluctantly I tore my eyes away
while you were impatient to leave the torture
the memories too heavy to bear in peace
without some weeping
And with one click of a door-latch it was done
we stood outside the cottage no longer ours
such a word does not exist in our language
no more you and me
No more views across the sound in sun or rain
our ways have taken us to Fionnphort and on
right to the mainland and there they have sundered
eastward and westward
There was talk between us of gentle friendship
and for a handful of moments the sun shone
but that was brief as the truth came to my heart
you will forget me
Recently, Bill Fitzsimons has rendered the same poem into Irish, which is a sister-language to Scottish Gaelic. This translation follows:
Bhí an radharc is brónach a fhéacháint mé
teachán ag seasamh gan curtíni;
an teach diolta sin, gan daoine agus fágtha.
Thógamar ár silleadh deireadh timpeall na seomraí,
ag cloisteáil ach amháin an macalla den torann
coise féin. Cé uair amháin bhí gáire agus fuaim
de grá san tráthnóna.
Bhí mé drogallach chun stróic mo shúile imigí
fad a bhí tú mífhoighne an céasadh a fhágáil -
na cuimhní ro-throm chun fulaing i síocháin
gan deora éigin.
Agus le smeach amháin den laiste-doras bhí sé déanta.
Bhí muid ag seasamh amuigh an teachán - níl se ár gceann-na anois.
Ní leithéid focal sin ann in ár teanga,
níl aon "mise agus tusa" níos mó.
Níl níos mó radhairc trasna an caolas san grian
nó báisteach - thóg ár slite go Fionnphort agus ar aghaidh
go dtí an mórthír agus scar siad acu ann
soir agus siar.
Bhí caint idir sinn de cairdeas bog
agus ar feadh nóiméid beag bhí an grian ag taitneamh,
ach bhí sin gearr nuair a tháinig an fhirinne chun
mo chroí - beidh tú dearmad mise.
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