do shìomain ruadh
a cuairteachadh nan
iomadh buaile far
nach faighear
aona bhuachaill’ on
ghabh thu buaidh
bhrat a chòmhdaich
ceann is gualainn
an tìr a tuath seo,
mar phlaide teann,
thug adhart fighte
do thàmh an t-sluaigh
leann na slàinte
bho’n t-saoghal àrsaidh,
brìgh na meala
dh’an t-seilean dligheach,
buigead bobhstair
do chuspair ruaig
sguab is pasgart
is tughadh daingeann,
do thìr ’s do mhuinntir,
ri am an fhòirneirt
na d’ bhraidseal clisgidh,
na d’fhalaisg dùsgaidh |
your brown ropes
surrounding all
those many folds where
no cow-herds can be
found now, since
you took control
banner that covered,
head and shoulder,
this northern land,
close woven plaid,
a knitted pillow
for the people’s rest
an ale for health
from the ancient world,
source of honey
to the dutiful bee,
softest mattress
for fugitives
broom and basket
and close-bond thatch
for land and folk,
in time of onset
a fire to startle,
heathfire to stir life |