mar a ghabh thu na sruthan sìorraidh
mar gum b’ann mu do shàilean
mar a dhaingnich thu na bruaichean,
a fhreiceadain na h-àirigh,
ged bu lom is fàs i,
mar a thaitnich leat an taise
’s tu seasamh na do làrach mar
mhaighdean dìleas shàmhach
nan loch, nam fèith ’s nan abhainn,
cò shaoileadh gum bu tu
cuilidh dhan ruagairteach,
tèarmann dha na leannain
(mar a dh’fheumas leannain tèarmann)
cha b’iadsan an taisdealair
’s a shùil air cabhsair tioram,
ceum a chithear
’s drochaid bhuan |
the way you accepted the eternal currents
as if about your ankles,
the way you strengthened the banks,
sentry of the sheiling,
though it’s bare, deserted,
the way you adapted to moisture
as you stand in your place like
the faithful silent maiden
of the lochs, marshes, rivers,
who’d have thought that you’d
be outlaw’s hideaway,
lover’s refuge
(how lovers need a refuge)
they are not the traveller
whose eye is on the paving-stone,
the visible path,
the durable bridge |