A’ Siubhal nam Blàth
Seillean
dian, dùrachdach
a’ siubhal nam blàth
mar a bhà
ann an Àird nam Murchan
o chionn dà cheud bliadhna gu leth
agus an dubh-Mhùideartach
ga dhian-amharc,
agus a-rithist
ann am meadhan a’ gheamhraidh
a’ dùsgadh na cuimhne sin.
An dùil am mair
blas na meala sin
dà cheud bliadhna gu leth eile
is a’ Ghàidhlig leth-bheò
ann an duilleagan sgoileir.
Carson nach maireadh
agus Horace is Catullus
fhathast a’ dùsgadh am blàth
nar cridheachan.
Translations of this Poem
Reconnoitering the Blossoms
A bee
steadily, industriously
reconnoitering the blossoms
just as
in Ardnamurchan
two and a half centuries ago
while the Dark-Moidart-man
observed it keenly
and later
in midwinter
revived the memory of it.
I wonder if the taste
of that honey will last
another two and a half centuries,
with Gaelic half-alive
on the pages of scholars.
Why not
when Horace and Catullus
still blossom
in our hearts.
(The Dark-Moidart-man is a nickname given to himself
by the 18th century poet Alasdair Mac Mhaighstir Alasdair.)
