Gum bi an talla seo làn fhuaimean a-rithist
Gum bi an talla seo làn fhuaimean a-rithist.
Seòmar a’ toirt mac-talla chan e dha fhèin a-mhàin
ach dha gach faram na dùthcha, geur agus binn:
àrd-bheachdan, còmhradh fìor neo-shuarach;
dòchas agus eachdraidh a’ bleadraigeadh
ri chèile; dùbhlanan air an togail
gu dealasach nuair a tha iad a dhìth.
Gum bi guthan ann o Arnol ’s Auchenrivock,
Uig, Wick, Wigtown, Yell, Yoker, Zoar,
gach àite eatarra agus an còrr,
òraidean fighte le ruitheaman ur cànain:
Albais, Gàidhlig, Shaetlan, Shona, Dutch, Arabic,
Orcadian, Pòlainnis, Fraingis, Hindi, Mandarin –
co-sheirm gach sanas, fuaimreag, connrag an t-saoghail mhòir.
Gum bi ceilearadh nan eun ann, ’s beucail bheathaichean,
gairm cait-fhiadhaich, comhachaige, guilbnich, stèirneil,
sgiathalaich chiùin na còinnich agus a’ bhlàith:
an tìr fhèin na cagar, na glugail, na ròmhan
nach tèid am mùchadh le bùireadh nam fiadh,
brag a’ gheamhraidh ann an geodha, einnsean;
leig leis an guth as socaire a sheirm gu domhain.
Gum fuaimnich mac-talla o fhaisg air làmh no fhad às
den òrd a’ buaileadh drithlean, piocaid air gual,
den each agus crann, den chroit agus gàrradh-iarainn,
sgoil agus ospadal, de chlap na turbaine:
gach srannan trang an latha-an-diugh agus an-dè.
Na leig leis an calafònia ur cìosnachadh;
cùm co-dhiù aon chluas deas son na tha tighinn.
Seinn na seann òrain, ach dèan àite airson cleasan ùra –
Burns ’s Màiri Mhòr mar luchd-an-taighe aig cèilidh
le Brooke Combe, Hamish Hawk, Eyve, Taaliadh,
Michael Mullen, Jacob Alon, Young Fathers, Brìghde Chaimbeul.
Thoir spèis dhan tèatar (coma leat dràma),
chan e a-mhàin mar bhathar, ghliumh-margaidh, kitsch.
Tagh faclan an seo a tha susbainteach, ceasnachail.
’S cùm aire air bun-mheatafor Mhiralles,
gum bi an talla seo mar bhàta, gleusta,
stòlda am-measg glagais a’ phuirt – eòlas
air tharraing air bòrd, freagairtean ro-shìmplidh
air fhàgail air a’ chidhe – deiseil son tarraing gu muir
airson còig bhliadhna eile, air a stiùireadh on chreag.
Bidh stoirmean ann; gun tèid sibh tromhpa.
Dhuibh uile san seachdamh seisean-sa, tuilleadh aghaidhean
agus dreuchdan ùra (A Mhòrachdan) cha mhòr na riamh roimhe,
’s dòch’ gum bi cus fuaimean an seo gus a dh’fhulaing:
’s e an tomhas an uair sin ciod ris a dh’èisteas tu.
Bi faiceallach, glic ’s còir, seachnaich luath-bheart:
lorg faclan a thiomas, a dhearbhas, a stiùireas
na bi feart, gabh an strèan, dèan na tha ceart.
Chaidh an dàn seo a sgrìobhadh airson fosgladh Pàrlamaid na h-Alba air an 27mh latha dhen t-Òg-mhios, 2026
Translations of this Poem
Let this hall be full of noises again
Let this hall be full of noises again.
A chamber echoing not just with itself
but all the sweet, sharp sounds of the country.
Big ideas and ambition. Honest, unpetty
discussion. Hope and history if not rhyming
then at least having a good blether.
What needs challenged being challenged.
Let accents sound here from Arnol and Auchenrivock,
Uig, Wick, Wigtown, Yell, Yoker, Zoar,
and everywhere in between and beyond:
flaucht your speeches with the rhythms of your leids –
Scots, Gaelic, Doric, Shaetlan, Dutch, Mandarin,
Orcadian, Polish, Shona, Hindi, French, Arabic –
all the signs, vowels, consonants of the world intermingling.
Let there be birdsong and animal call,
wildcat and hoolet, laverock, curlew, arctic tern,
the quiet flutter of moss and blossom,
the land itself in all its whispers, gurgles, groans.
Let them not be drowned out by the stag rut,
the brag of the winter sea in a geo, the engine;
let the quietest voices carry the furthest.
And let there be the echoes from far or near
of hammer on rivet and bolt, pick on coalface,
of horse and plough, shipyard and croft,
of school and hospital, the whirr of turbines:
all that busy noise of past and present.
But don’t let this dirdum overtake you –
keep at least one ear pricked for whatever’s on the way.
Let old songs still be sung but make space for the new.
Let Burns and Màiri Mhòr host a ceilidh
with Brooke Combe, Hamish Hawk, Eyve, Taaliadh,
Michael Mullen, Jacob Alon, Young Fathers, Brìghde Chaimbeul:
may this be a space for theatre, if not drama,
not just as product or kitsch or corporate glue:
let your words probe, explore, be purposeful.
And heed Miralles’s founding metaphor:
let this hall once again be a righted boat,
let it fill with the sounds of the quay, hawsers
of knowledge pulled on board, easy answers chucked back
to the pier – ready to put to sea for five years,
steadied and steered calmly off the rocks.
There will be storms ahead; let them be weathered.
To all of you in this seventh session, more new faces
and roles (your majesties) than – almost – ever before
there may be more noises here than you can handle:
the measure then is what you listen to.
Tak tent, be wise, kind and open, not recondite:
find words to clarify, assuage, check and lead;
don’t be feart, bear the weight, do what’s right.
This poem was commissioned for the opening of the seventh session of the Scottish Parliament on 27th June 2026
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Pàdraig MacAoidh Peter Mackay
Pàdraig MacAoidh / Peter Mackay is originally from the Isle of Lewis; he lectures in the School of English at the University of St Andrews, and has written widely on Scottish and Irish poetry.
