Do Dhòmhnall MacAmhlaigh nach maireann

by Meg Bateman

Bidh mi ag ionndrainn do bhròn
a bha ionraic,
nach rachadh a bhreugnachadh,
nach mealladh am fasan.

Thuig thu
nach cuireadh càch
diù ann am fuamhairean do chridhe.
Dhiùlt thu an cur à àite.

Chunnaic thu gun robh do dhùthchas
a' sìoladh dhan mhòine,
gun dol às aig a’ ghaol
ach blasad na snighe seirbhe.

To the late Donald MacAulay

I miss your sadness
that was honest,
that did not look for comfort,
was unimpressed by fashion.

You understood
that the giants of your heart
went unnoticed by others.
You refused to replace them.

You saw your culture
was sinking in the peat,
and love had no escape
but to taste the bitter ooze.