Chì Mi
Chì mi thu tro cheò na h-ùine,
Dusd na tìm a’ seacadh ùr-bhlath
D’ òige; ach an cridh’ mo chrìdh’-sa,
Dath nach searg san dealbh a chì mi.
Chì mi anns an ròs do shamhla,
Droigheann geur do ghaoil gam lannsadh,
Mar an ubhal sa chraoibh a b’ àirde,
Fad’ bhom laimh is mi gun fhàradh.
Tha ’n cuan fhathast romham sgaoilte
’S mi gun bhàta, ràmh no taoman;
Tha bheinn gam chuireadh bhom ìsle
’S mi gun anail son a dìreadh.
Càit a’ faigh mi ’m mèinn mo dhòchais
Aislingean leth-tromach m’ òige?
Fhathast bhuam iad air fàire,
Gun ach m’ fhaileas fhìn mar nàbaidh.
Dh’abaich am meas a bha uaine,
Tha e deas don fhoghar bhuana;
Cuirear a shìol san ath Mhàrt-mhìos -
Beath’ ag ùrachadh à bàs dhuinn.
Translations of this Poem
I See You
Translator: Bill Innes
I see you through the mist of time,
Dust of age withering the fresh blossom
Of your youth; but in the picture I see
In my heart of hearts, the colour never fades.
I see in the rose your likeness,
Sharp thorns of love piercing me,
Or as the highest apple on the tree,
Far from reach without steps to climb.
The sea spreads wide before me still
And I without boat or oar or baler;
The mountain invites me from my lowlands
But I lack the breath to climb.
Where will I find the mine of my hopes,
Those intense dreams of my youth?
They are far away on the horizon
With but my pale shadow for company.
The green fruit has ripened,
Ready for the autumn harvest;
Its seed will be sown next spring –
Life reborn out of death for us.
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Donald John MacDonald
Donald John MacDonald left school at 14 but had imbibed his native oral culture from both sides of his bardic family. From them he inherited an unequalled richness and musicality of language which make his early works a pleasure...
