.jpg)
Eunlaith
Songbirds
Ceilearadh sa choille
’s crith nan duilleagan san dubh,
cha chluinn ach dìosgail nan geugan
’s iad a’ lùbadh sa ghaoith
a shèideas tro mo sgiathan,
’s m’ itean òir a’ dol nan luath,
mo bhrìgh a’ crìonadh gu sìon,
mus ruig mi buil mo cheud cuairt.
Ach ’s sibh tha faisg orm
’s ur duan buan
mu thuath agus deas agus
cha robh mi ’n dùil ri ainleas
dh’fhàg mo shuaimhneas gun dìon.
Nàile leig a’ chuthag oirr’
is gum b’ eòl sibh dhi o thùs,
mar a ghuireadh sibh san aon nead
is thàna linn asaibh mar aon,
ach fhad ’s bu mhi a fhuair am breab,
a chuir mi tùirling gun a’ ghrunnd,
is sibh dh’èireas nur triùir:
cuthag, cnagag-choill’ is lon dubh.
Thig mo mhùthadh orm
’s cuirte cridh’ caoin air ascaoin,
gach seòmar falamh de dh’fhuil
is iad làn sàil’ o mo shùil,
is m’ anam brùit’ ro bhràigheadh,
m’ itean corcair dol nam breò
ron ghuth as cruaidhe a chual’
is blaodh a bhàthadh gach ceòl.
Is sibh rinn feall orm,
’s ur coilleag fillt’
on iarla gus an uarla is
an ainneamhag gun eunlaith
bha dhomh càirdean o shean,
Nise tha ur nimh nur guib
’s gun ach bigeireachd nur plòigh,
an dùil gun dèan mi gàire ro thàir,
mar a thoilleas mi droch rùn,
an cuimhne leibh gur mi shèid blàth,
nuair chuir sibh sgiathan mu sgaoil?
Ach ’s sibh a dh'èireas nur triùir:
cuthag, cnagag-choill’ is lon dubh.
Birdsong in the forest
and the the leaves shake in the darkness,
I only hear the creaking of the branches
as they bend in the wind
which blows through my wings,
as my feathers fall to ash,
by life-force decays into an atom,
before I reach my hundred journey's end.
But you are close by
with your unending song
in the north and the south and
I didn't expect the slander
that left my peace unprotected.
Yes, the cuckoo makes out
that she knew you all along,
as if you were one brood in the nest
and hatched as one,
but as it's me that took the kick
that send me falling to the ground,
you three rise together:
cuckoo, crossbill and blackbird.
My change will come upon me
with my heart turned inside out,
it's four chambers drained of blood,
filled up with brine from my eyes,
and my soul bruised from the explosion,
my crimson feathers a phosphorus fire
before the hardest voice ever heard
and the birdsong that drowns out all music.
You betrayed me,
with your song, two-faced
from start to finish that left
this phoenix without the those
who long were her friends.
Now there's poison in your beaks
and only mockery in your jokes,
expecting me to smile at disdain,
as if I deserve contempt,
don't you remember it was me who blew warm,
when your spread your wings to fly?
But you three together will rise:
cuckoo, crossbill and blackbird.
