A Dream o the Gairden

Hoodit angels flaffin by like craws o licht,
pear trees reishin, the waff o yalla roses, 
the soun o greitin i the nicht,
the dirl o a lassie's finger on skin, 
the saft taste o kisses i the simmer dim.
An auld dream -
a dream o the thing at cuts an dives, 
beats abune the bummin drone o our lifes,
birls an cuts an grips the hairt, 
trumpets out abune the horns o the flesh,
dances us out o the dream o life
ti life itsel.
It'll rise frae its ain grund,
an urlar o majestie an dreid,
throu leumluadh, torluadh, crunnluadh a mach, 
speirin out the grund in aa its disguises,
seekin the grund i the hairt o the varyins, 
the grund ablow the graith,
the yirth ablow the roses,
the mools ablow the feckless wastrie o the flouers.
A'd gar it soun,
gar't dirl i the dowff lugs o the warld,
yon auldest o tunes,
the sang o the gairden.
Singin or sung,
ayont the day or the morn or lang lang syne,
yont dykes or hedges, burrals an bauks,
yont dreamer or dream, piper or tune:
the sang o the gairden,
gowden an green
owre the lang greitin gless,
the deep drone o time.