ailm

Eadha/ aspen


cha b'e nàire
gun do dhiùlt thu
ùmhlachd do dhia,
's gun d'rinn thu
crann dha bhàs,

ach, mar a chithear
na do dhuilleach
miaran pìobaire,
 siùbhlachd d'iarrtais
air dannsa		 it's not your shame
that you wouldn't
bow to a god,
or made the
cross he died on,

but the motion
of your leaves
like piper's fingers,
an urgency
for dancing
poem by aonghas macneacail