Scots Owerset Of A Poem By Abraham Sutzkever Poem by Sheena Blackhall

A Cairt o Sheen

The wheels they lair an furl,
Bit fit is piled abeen?
They bring alang a cairtload
Stap fu o livin sheen.

The cairt like a waddin canopy
In gloamin lowe, enchants:
The sheen paired up in boorichs,
Like couples in a daunce.

A holiday, a waddin?
Cud grace a decked oot haa!
The sheen — weel kent, weel myndit,
I recognize them aa.

The heels tap wi nae coorseness:
Their hames are left ahin
Frae auncient Vilna bywyes,
They’re drivin tae Berlin.

I mauna speir ‘fa ains ye? ’
Ma hairt, it skips a beat:
‘Tell me the truth, sheen, clearly
Far are yer owners feet? ’

The feet o pumps sae bauchelt,
Wi buttondraps, dyew -lain
Far is the shipit body?
Far has the wumman gaen?

An bairnies’s sheen— blythe littlins
Far are the bairnie's feet?
Foo is the bride nae weirin
Her sheen sae bricht an neat?

Mangst clogs an littlins' sandals,
Ma Mither's sheen I see!
On Sabbath, like the caunles,
She'd pit them on in glee.

The heels tap oot nae coorseness
Their hames lie far ahin
Frae auncient Vilna bywyes,
They’re drive tae Berlin.

Vilna Ghetto, January 1,1943