Ghiùlain i mìle mìorbhail –
pocan-mòna nach tèid àireamh,
clòimhtean chaorach bhon an àirigh,
badan feòir is cocan-eòrna,
còig gille deug air am pronnadh
agus aon latha foghair
rùda mòr a chaidh a rùsgadh
is faoileag a’ danns air adhairc.
Bha an t-each sean is caol ge-tà
‘s chaidh a reic ri ceàrd bha siubhal,
‘s ghabh fuaim am Massey Ferguson àit’
gliog is brag na cuibhill.
na fealla-dhà làn-ùine. Air bòrd, sheòl
sinn gu San Francisco, ‘s dh’èirich pàirt
dhan ghealaich, ‘s a’ chluasag-bheòil
bhiodh ceangal an asail ‘s na cuibhl’
fhathast nam postan-coise
a’ meirgeadh thall an Uibhist.
Translations of this Poem
Our Old Cart
Translator: Angus Peter Campbell
She bore wonders –
endless sacks of dusty peat,
countless bags of oily wool,
stooks of hay and jagged corn,
fifteen squashed boys,
and one spectacular day
a sheared ram with a stray
gull dancing on its horns.
But the horse grew old
and was sold to a passing tinker,
so the brand-new Massey Ferguson
replaced the bridle’s chinkle.
became our plaything. It sailed
to San Francisco, and part of it flew
to the moon, and that bit
which connects the axle to the wheel
became a pair of goal-posts which still stand
rusting in the relentless Uist wind.
About this poem
This poem was reproduced on a postcard for National Poetry Day 2011. Eight poetry postcards are published each year by the Scottish Poetry Library to celebrate National Poetry Day and are distributed throughout Scotland to schools, libraries and other venues. The theme for 2011 was games. You can find out more about National Poetry Day in our National Poetry Day pages, where you'll also find resources to go with the poems.