‘Thug mise dhut biothbhuantachd’
Thug mise dhut biothbhuantachd
is dè thug thu dhòmhsa?
Cha tug ach saighdean
geura do bhòidhchid.
Thug thu cruaidh shitheadh
is treaghaid na dòrainn,
domblas an spioraid,
goirt dhrithleann na glòire.
Ma thug mise dhut biothbhuantachd
’s tusa thug dhòmhs’ i;
’s tu gheuraich mo spiorad
’s chuir an drithleann ‘nam òran;
’s ged rinn thu mo mhilleadh
an tuigse na còmhraig,
nam faicinn thu rithist
ghabhainn tuilleadh ‘s an còrr dheth.
Nam faicinn mum choinneamh
air magh Tìr na h-Òige
an dèidh dìochuimhn’ mo dhragha
clàr foinnidh do bhòidhchid,
b’ fheàrr leam an siud e
ged thilleadh mo bhreòiteachd,
’s na suaimhneas an spioraid
mi rithist bhith leònte.
A nighean bhuidhe àlainn,
’s ann shrac thu mo threòir-sa
agus dh’fhiaraich mo shlighe
bho shireadh mo thòrachd;
ach ma ruigeas mi m’ àite,
coille àrd luchd nan òran,
’s tu grìosach an daìn dhomh,
rinn thu bàrd dhìom le dòrainn.
Thog mi an calbh seo
air beinn fhalbhaich na tìme
ach `s esan clach-chuimbhne
a bhios suim dheth gu dìlinn,
is ged bhios tusa aig fear-pòsta
is tu gun eòl air mo strì-sa,
’s e do ghlòir-sa mo bhàrdachd
an dèidh cnàmhachd do lìthe.
Translations of this Poem
'I gave you immortality'
Translator: Sorley MacLean
I gave you immortality
and what did you give me?
Only the sharp
arrows of your beauty,
a harsh onset
and piercing sorrow,
bitterness of spirit
and a sore gleam of glory.
If I gave you immortality
you gave it to me;
you put an edge on my spirit
and radiance in my song.
And though you spoiled
my understanding of the conflict,
yet, were I to see you again,
I should accept more and the whole of it.
Were I, after oblivion of my trouble,
to see before me
on the plain of the Land of Youth
the gracious form of your beauty,
I should prefer it there,
although my weakness would return,
and to peace of spirit
again to be wounded.
O yellow-haired, lovely girl,
you tore my strength
and inclined my course
from its aim:
but, if I reach my place,
the high wood of the men of song,
you are the fire of my lyric –
you made a poet of me through sorrow.
I raised this pillar
on the shifting mountain of time,
but it is a memorial-stone
that will be heeded till the Deluge,
and, though you will be married to another
and ignorant of my struggle,
your glory is my poetry
after the slow rotting of your beauty.
