Pluto
(An dèidh Masadonais Katica Kulavkova)
Seo mi, ma tha sibh gam aithnicheadh, neo fiù’s mura h-eil,
a’ coimhead oirrbh bho oir an rìan-grèine,
mar gum b’e aonaran a bh’unnam
a’ fuireach a-muigh ràthad na mòintich
le prosbaig aig gach uinneag.
Can sibh gu bheil mi ‘iomallach’
ach tha mi an teas-mheadhan an neonitheachd agam fhìn,
Seo mi, cho ifrinneach sa shaoileadh tu:
le mo bheanntan ’s mo raointean reòite
’s mo bhrat meatain, naidhtreoidsein ‘s CO2.
Tha mi cho puinnseanta ri là shàmhraidh ann an Nis.
Cha tig ur sòlas faisg orm, ’s co-dhìu aon chas agam
ann an dorchadas bith-bhuanta.
Tha mi ag ràdh ‘bith-bhuanta’ ach
Fad’ on robh mi a’ tuigsinnn tìde idr,
agus e air tighinn a-steach orm nach eil
mothaid cudromach ann an dòigh sam bith.
Tha mi nas tana na na Stàitean Aonaichte
ach tha coig gealaich agam ’s mi ag iarraidh tuilleadh baby.
Tha mi a’ gabhail sùil air croit Aonghas Phrionns’.
Seo mi, a’ seinn ‘Teann a-nall ’s thoir dhomh do làmh’
ann an oisean taigh-seinnse àiteigin ann an Glaschu
ach ged a bha mi riamh coimhead orm fhìn mar mheall den òr
chan eil duine a’ toirt suim dhomh.
O tha buannachdan ann a bhith neo-aithnichte,
a bhith beò air crìoch eadar dà ughdarras.
Aig a’ ghairm mu dheireadh thig mi sgrìob leam fhìn.
Translations of this Poem
Pluto
Translator: Pàdraig MacAoidh Peter Mackay
(after the Macedonian of Katica Kulavkova)
Here I am, whether you recognise me or not,
looking at you from the edge of the galaxy,
as if I was a loner
living out the peat-road
with a telescope at each window.
You’ll say that I’m ‘remote’
but I’m in the middle of my own nothing.
Here I am, as hellish as you’d imagine:
with my mountains and frozen plains
and my cloak of methane, nitrogen and CO2.
I’m as poisonous as a summer day in Ness.
Your light won’t come close to me; I’ve at least one foot
in eternal darkness.
I say ‘eternal’ but
it’s ages since I understood time,
and it strikes me that
size doesn’t really matter at all.
I am thinner than the United States
but I have 5 moons, and want more baby.
I have my eye on Aonghas Prince’s croft.
Here I am, singing ‘Teann a-nall ’s thoir dhomh do làmh’
in the corner of a pub somewhere in Glasgow
and though I always thought of myself as a lump of gold
no one pays me any attention.
There are advantages in anonymity,
to living between two authorities.
At last orders I’ll go for a stroll by myself.
About this poem
This poem, previous unpublished, was selected by Peter Mackay for the Scottish Poetry Library’s ‘Burns Night Skies‘ initiative in January 2025.
