Poetry Map of Scotland poem no. 83: Dowally, Perthshire

Am Foghar

 

Gabhaidh fraoch liath-dhearg

Grèim air na creagan

A shiubhlas mi seachad

Eadar Inbhir Nis agus An Aghaidh Mhòr.

 

Thèid seantans an rathaid

Fhaide a phungachadh

Le cromagan iseanan,

Puingean stad nam bodhaig marbh.

 

Is tuigidh mi nach faod mi

Do chumail, peacach

Nam inntinn

Is am foghar a’ fàs oirnn uile.

 

Lùbaidh an rathaid a-rithist

A dh’ionnsaigh Siorrachd Pheairt

Is gheibh mi a-mach às a’ bhus

Gus seasamh aig crois meadhan Alba.

 

A’ togail rathaid eile,

Chì mi achadh faisg air Dubhailigh;

Garbh mar achlais Lochlannaich,

Ruadh-bhàn is fallain;

Cearcall a bhuannachd

A’ tighinn cu crìoch.

 

Mar mhathanas dom anam.

 

 

The Autumn

 

Ruddy heather clings

To the precipice

That I steam past

Between Inverness and Aviemore

 

The road’s sentence

Strung out and punctuated

With the commas of birds,

Full stop roadkill.

 

And now I understand

I can’t keep you penitent

In my mind

When the Autumn creeps over us all.

 

The highway swings again

Towards Perthshire

And I disembark the bus

To stand at the cross-roads of Scotland.

 

Taking another road,

I see a field by Dowally,

Coarse like Viking armpit,

Auburn and hearty;

The cycle of its profit

Coming to conclusion.

 

Like forgiveness to my psyche.

 

Marcas Mac an Tuairneir
To be published in the next edition of Cabhsair / Causeway

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