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Language: Gaelic

Rannan-Chloinne - by Rody Gorman

{ Poem }

Arraing Aob!, ub!, obag! Mo chràdh!, an arraingA’ cur gun sgur air mo chliathaichAir mo sgrìob dhomh sa ChlachaigAgus na geòidh-fhiadhaich Gu h-àrd os mo chionn a’ tarraing. Crùban Leis fhèin, seall, am bodachA’ buain ’s a’ togail nan srùbanEadar a’ Chlachaig is an FhaoilinnDiluain ’s cridhe na tràghad annAgus corra-sgritheach Thall ud air crùban. […]

Cha Toigh Leamsa Sgrìobhadh - by Màrtainn Mac an t-Saoir
Martin MacIntyre

{ Poem }

Cha toigh leamsa sgrìobhadh,chan urrainn dhomh ann.Bidh faclan bhuam teicheadh,nuair thogas mi peann.Ach le cluas ri claisneachdis bilean mo bheòil,thèid agam air bàrdachd a chruthachadh beò.Bidh briathran mac-meanmnaila’ dannsa le chèil’ –mar luchaig is leòmhann ri ruidhle san fhèill.Is eagal no iomagain –na cealgairean fhèin! –chan fhairich mi mìr dhiubh’s mi cho saor cur an […]

Nuair a thàinig a’ Phiseag - by Joan Nicdhòmhnaill

{ Poem }

Sheirm glag an dorais is cò a bha ann,Ach Cailidh, ar nàbaidh, is basgaid na làimh,“Thig a-steach is dèan suidhe, a charaid, a dhuine,Is fhada bhon uair sin a thog thu do cheann.”“Is fhada gun teagamh ach chan urrainn dhomh fuireach,’S ann ag iarraidh do chobhair a nochd mis’ an-dràst’,Seall thusa na lorg mi a-muigh […]

Joan Nicdhòmhnaill

{ Poet }

Tha Joan Nicdhòmhnaill às an Rubha ann an Leòdhas agus tha i a-nis a’ fuireach ann am Fìobha. Tha i ag obair aig Oilthigh Dhùn Èideann far a bheil i air a bhith a’ teagasg na Gàidhlig airson 25 bliadhna. Joan Nicdhòmhnaill is from Point in the Isle of Lewis and now lives in Fife. […]

Meaban - by Iain MacRàth
Iain MacRae

{ Poem }

Bha meaban beag mosach‘na shuidhe gach là‘s e ‘sgrìobhadh rudan air-loighn’.‘S ann dhèanadh e gàir‘s e ‘toirt a-mach tàirair muinntir a’ Mhòid a bha seinn.Ach b’ e rinn a’ mhearachd‘s e magadh air Hearachbha fada na b’ àirde na beinn.Tha an dithis ‘s a phrìosan(bithidh iad ann airson seusan)‘s an fòn-làimh ‘na phìosan beag cruinn.

Bualadh Boise - by Niall O’Gallagher

{ Poem }

Aotroman, aotromanaon – dhà – trìsèideag gus an lìon eprìn’ – prìn’ – prìn’!Aotroman, aotromantrì – dhà – aonbioran gus an dèan eplaosg – plaosg – plaosg!Dotaman, dotamandearg – gorm – uain’putag gus an gluais eluath – luath – luath!Dotaman, dotamanbuidh’ – liath – gealcaileag gus am falbh e:car – car – car!

Robbie Anndra MacLeòid

{ Poet }

Tha Robbie MacLeòid na bhàrd agus sgrìobhaiche, le ceanglaichean làidir ri Barraigh. Tha e foillsichte ann an iomadach àite agus gu h-eadar-nàiseanta. Choisinn e Duais nan Sgrìobhadairean Ùra bhon Scottish Book Trust tàilleabh a bhàrdachd. Nochd a chiad cruinneachadh de bhàrdachd, Am Measg Luaithrean, Beò, ann an 2025.Robbie MacLeòid is a Gaelic writer and musician, […]

Na Raiders - by Robbie Anndra MacLeòid

{ Poem }

An cuala tu mu na raiders?‘Mu na raiders?’ Mu na raiders!An cuala tu mu na raidersa-null an Bhatarsaigh?Cha robh taighean aig na raiders.‘Aig na raiders?’ Aig na raiders!Ach bha fearann bhiodh gu feum dhaibha-null an Bhatarsaigh.Cha robh ach duine ann ga chleachdadh.‘Ann ga chleachdadh?’ Ann ga chleachdadh!Cha robh ach duin’ ann air an talamha-null an […]

An Taghan ’s an Geamair - by Aonghas MacLeòid

{ Poem }

Tha Taghan beag seòlta a’ fuireach sa choilleA’ leum is a’ mire, a’ sreap is a’ ruithA’ dìreadh a’ ghiuthais le mheanganan mòraA’ sealltainn a’ Gheamair air a’ mhonadh a-muigh.Tha e beag agus fiadhaich le fiaclan cho geur,Còta donn bòidheach agus earball mòr tiugh,Pìos bheag de gheal air agus sùilean dubh dorcha,’S cròganan a dh’fhàgas […]

Mòrag Anna NicNèill

{ Poet }

’S ann às Na Hearadh a tha Mòrag Anna NicNèill, ged a tha i an-diugh a’ fuireach ann am Barraigh. Rinn i Litreachas na Beurla agus Ceiltis ann an Oilthigh Ghlaschu, agus chuir i seachad còrr is 25 bliadhna a’ teagasg Gàidhlig aig ìre àrd-sgoile. Choisinn i Duais nan Sgrìobhadairean Ùra bho Chomhairle nan Leabhraichean […]

Preasa mo Sheanar - by Mòrag Anna NicNèill

{ Poem }

Tha preasa aig mo sheanair’S chan eil a shamhail san Roinn Eòrpa – Tha e mìorbhaileach is maiseach,Loma-làn dhen h-uile seòrsa:Tha suiteis ann nan tunnaicheanIs cèicichean nan ceudan,A h-uile gin dhiubh blasta’S a bheir uisge glas mud fhiaclan;Bunaichean le siristeanFuids is maidean-milis,Seòclaid is siùcar-dubhIs spuinnsichean le silidh;Cnothan agus measanAgus sliseagan bhuntàta(Feadhainn phlèana, shaillteNo le uinneanan […]

Caller Oysters, mas e do thoil - by Pàdraig MacAoidh
Peter Mackay

{ Poem }

O happy are they
who sit down to a tasting menu, a silver shilling unbroken in their pocket, not knowing what comes next,
the whole dinner yet before them, no hint of burp or hiccup.

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