He grew up weaving harness from the muirineach
Singing and tending horses on South Uist
War plucked him, like a berry from the Gaeltachd
It crushed, and spat him out at *Craig Dunain
Silence became his shadow, Grass, his healer
With it he knitted jackets, pouches, hats
Hid them by tree and bush well out of sight
Sheep wool, beech leaves, all assumed new mysteries
Shaped by his gnarled hands, his crippled mind
Impenetrable as the haar
That hugs the drizzling coastal Hebrides
Now, his ruined croft at Eochar
Bares the ribs of its roof to the wild skies
The skies that range beyond all normal boundaries
*psychiatric hospital
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem