A nighean a’ chùil ruaidh òir
A nighean a’ chùil ruaidh òir,
fada bhuat, a luaidh, mo thòir;
a nighean a’ chùil ruaidh òir,
gur fada bhuatsa mo bhròn.
Mi nochd air linne Ratharsair, ‘s mo làmh air an stiùir,
a’ ghaoth gu neo-airstealach a’ crathadh an t-siùil,
mo chridhe gu balbh, cràiteach an dèidh do chiùil,
an là an-diugh ‘s a-màireach coingeis ri mo dhùil.
Ciar an ceò èalaidh air Dùn Cana,
frionasach garbh-shliabh is canach,
a’ ghaoth an iar air aghaidh mara,
dh’fhalbh mo dhùil is dùiseal tharam.
Am bristeadh geal gu làr an tuinn,
a’ ghaoth ‘na sgal mu bhàrr a’ chroinn,
ach sèideadh sgal, chan eil mo shuim
ri cath a dhùisgeas air mùir luim.
A nighean a’ chùil ruaidh òir,
fada bhuat, mo thòir;
a nighean a’ chùil ruaidh òir,
gur glè fhada bhuat mo bhròn.
Translations of this Poem
Girl of the red-gold hair
Translator: Crìsdean MacIlleBhàin
Christopher Whyte, Christopher Whyte
Girl of the red-gold hair,
far from you, o love, my pursuit;
girl of the red-gold hair,
far from you my sorrow.
Tonight on the Sound of Raasay my hand is on the helm,
the wind tugs energetically at the sail,
my heart is dumb, aching for your music,
today and tomorrow indifferent to my expectation.
Grey is the mist that creeps over Dun Caan,
fretful the coarse moor grass and bog cotton,
a wind from the west touches the surface of the sea,
my hopes are gone, gloom overshadows me.
A white cleft to the bottom of the wave,
the wind skirls round the tip of the mast,
but let it blow, I am indifferent
to a battle awakening on a bare sea.
Girl of the red-gold hair,
far from you, love, my aim,
girl of the red-gold hair,
very far from you my sorrow.
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Somhairle MacGill-Eain
Sorley MacLean
Sorley MacLean's mastery of his chosen medium and his engagement with the European poetic tradition and European politics make him one of the major Scottish poets of the modern era.Sorley MacLean
