Ceithir Gaothan na h-Albann
M’oiteag cheòlmhor chaoin ’teachd deiseil nam bheitheach Samhraidh i,
mo stoirm chuain le dìle ’cur still ’s gach alltan domh,
a’ ghaoth tuath le cathadh sneachda nì dreachmhor beanntan domh,
a’ ghaoth tha ’g iomain m’fhalaisg Earraich ri leathad ghleanntaichean.
Duilleach an t-Samhraidh, tuil an Dàmhair, na cuithean ’s an àrdghaoth Earraich i;
dùrd na coille, bùirich eas, ùire ’n t-sneachda ’s an fhalaisg i;
tlàths is binneas, àrdan, misneach, fàs is sileadh nam frasan i;
anail mo chuirp, àrach mo thuigse, mo làmhan, m’uilt is m’anam i.
Fad na bliadhna, rè gach ràithe, gach là ’s gach ciaradh feasgair dhomh,
is i Alba nan Gall ’s nan Gàidheal is gaire, is blàths, is beatha dhomh.
Translations of this Poem
The Four Winds of Scotland
My melodious, gentle breeze blowing from southward in my Summer
birchwood is she;
my ocean storm, with downpour sending in headlong spate each
burn for me;
the north wind with driving snow that makes beautiful the hills for me;
the wind that drives my Springtime muirburn up the slopes of glens
is she.
The leaves of Summer, the spate of Autumn, the snowdrifts and the
high Spring wind is she;
the sough of the woodland, the roaring of waterfalls, the freshness of
the snow and the heather ablaze is she;
mild pleasantness and melody, angry pride and courage, growth and
the pouring of the showers is she;
breath of my body, nurture of my understanding, my hands, my joints
and my soul is she.
All year long, each season through, each day and each fall of dusk
for me,
it is Scotland, Highland and Lowland, that is laughter and warmth and
life for me.
