Scots Poems From The Plumber's Widow Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Leo
I'm a Leo- hear me roar!
I'm a Leo. Fit are ye?
Gowd's ma metal, sun's ma star
I'm queen o the galaxy

Leo's flooer's the marigold
Herbs are saffron, rosemary
Lucky nummers, echt an nine
Lucky gem? A deep ruby!

Bonaparte & Mussolini
Walter Scott, George Bernard Shaw
Alfred Hitchcock, Carl Jung
Me & Claudius, Leos aa!



Fit's in a name?
Fit's in a name?
A tribe, a clan, a kennin
A bluid line spakk in wirds

A meenister merked ma broo
As a babby, a cross o watter
Ma faither's name cried alood in the kirk

A secunt time in the kirk
Anither name cheenge gotten wi a ring
Gotten bi law, bit nae as deep as bluid

Unwad bi law, I tuik ma first name back
Vrocht in ma mither's wyme
Wyled frae her man's seed sack



Fa wid be a Woman?
Fa wid be a woman?
Ye maun be swack an thin
Exercising nicht an day
Tae keep yer body trim

Spray tan tae luik healthy
An nae be peely wally
Drinkin veggie green shakks
Scunnerin tae swallae

Waxin yer pudenda
Yeroxters, legs as weel
Ooya! Thon is torture
Will yer bitties heal?

Dubs tae makk a face mask
Ile fur dehydration
Seaweed bath wi sea satt
Colonic irrigation

Eebroos pluckt an threidit
Breast implants ye ken
Liposuction, botox
Perfume but an ben

Pedicure an manicure
Extensions, gel an peint
Bleach yer hair peroxide
Tae restore the youth ye've tint

Tattooes weird an winnerfu
Plaisters fur yer feet
Troot lipped, buffed an back caimbed
Tae makk ye luik complete

Fa wid be a wumman?
Wi a bra tae stop ye jigglin
Implantit teeth sae bonnie
Sae ye'll be smashin grinning!


Three Scots Owersetts o Poems frae Serbia

A Forgetfu Nummer by Vasko Popa
Aince upon a time there wis a nummer
Pure an roun like the sun
Bit alane, unca alane

It stertit tae reckon wi itsel

It dividit, multipleed itsel
It subtrackit addit itsel
An bedd ayweys alane

It stoppit reckonin wi itsel
An steeked itsel up in its roun
An sunny purity

Ootside wir left the fiery
Merks o its reckonin

They stertit tae chase ane anither ben the derk
Tae divide fin they should hae multipleed thirsels
Tae subtrack fin they should hae addit thirsels

Thon's fit happens in the derk

An there wis naebody tae tell it
Tae stop the merks
An tae rub them oot.


Hyne Inbye Us (2): by Vasko Popa
Luik here's thon unsocht
Alien body luik it's here

A shoogle on the ocean o tea in the cup
Roost takkin haud
On the edges o oor lauchter
A snake furled in the mids o the keekin glaiss

Will I be able tae hap ye
Frae yer face in mine

Luik it's the third shadda
On oor imagined wauk
Stammygasterin abyss
Atween oor wirds
Hoofs duntin
Ablow the vaults o oor palates

Will I be able
On this reistless-park
Tae raise ye a tent o ma haun


In The Clachan O Ma Forebears by Vasko Popa
Somebody bosies me
Somebody luiks at me wi the een o a wolf
Somebody takks aff his hat
Sae I can see him better

Abody speirs
Dae ye ken foo I'm sib tae yersel

Unkent auld chiels an weemen
Takk ower the names
O young chiels an weemen frae ma myndin

I speir o ane o them
Tell me fur God's sake
Is George the Wolf still leevin

Thon's me he repons
Wi a vyce frae the neist warld
I touch his chikk wi ma haun
An prig him wi ma een
Tae tell me gin I'm leevin as weel



Three Scots Owersetts o Poems frae a Turkish Poet

A Dowie State O Freedom by Nazim Hikmet
Ye spyle the watchfuness o yer een,
the glimmrin darg o yer hauns,
an knead the dough eneuch fur dizzens o loaves
o which ye'll taste nae a nippick;
ye're free tae slave fur ithers-
ye're free tae makk the rich richer.

The meenit ye're born
they plunk aroun you
mills that grind lees
lees tae last ye a lifetime.
Ye keep thinkin in yer great freedom
a finger on yer broo
free tae hae a free conscience.

Yer heid bood gin as if hauf-cuttit frae the nape,
yer airms lang, hingin,
yer daunder aboot in yer great freedom:
ye're free
wi the freedom o bein ooto wirk.

Ye lue yer kintra
as the nearest, maist preecious ferlie tae ye.
Bit ae day, fur example,
they may like it ower in America,
an ye, tae, wi yer great freedom-
ye hae the freedom tae becam an air-base.

Ye micht say that ane maun live
nae as a tool, a nummer or a link
bit as a human body-
syne at aince they hauncuff yer wrists.
Ye're free tae be arrestit, jyned
an even hingit.

There's neither an iron, widden
nur a tulle curtain
in yer life;
there's nae need tae chuse freedom:
ye're free.
Bit this kinno freedom
is a waesome sett oot unner the starnies.


Lion In An Iron Cage by Nazim Hikmet
Luik at the lion in the iron cage,
luik deep intae his een:
like twa nyaakit steel daggers
they skinkle wi roose.
Bit he niver losses his dignity
altho his roose
cams an gaes
gaes an cams.

Ye couldnae finn a neuk for a collar
roun his thick, furry mane.
Altho the cloors o a whip
still burn on his yallo back
his lang shanks
streetch an eyn
in the makk o twa copper cleuks.
The hairs on his mane heist up ane bi ane
aroun his prood heid.
His hatred
cams an gaes
gaes an cams...

The shadda o ma brither on the waa o the jyle
meeves
up an doon
up an doon.


Hymn Tae Life by Nazim Hikmet
The hair faain on yer broo
o a suddenty heistit.
O a suddenty somethin steered on the grun.
The trees are fusperin
in the derk.
Yer nyaakit airms will be cauld.

Hyne aff
far we canna see,
the meen maun be heistin.
It hisnae reached us yet,
skytin ben the leaves
tae licht up yer shouder.
Bit I kent
a win cams up wi the meen.
The trees are fusperin.
Yer nyaakit airms will be cauld.

Frae abune,
frae the branches tint in the derk,
a ferlie drappit at yer feet.
Ye meeved closer tae me.
Unner ma haun yer nyaakit flesh is like the fuzzy skin o a fruit.
Neither a sang o the hairt nur "common sense"-
afore the trees, birdies, an gollachs,
ma haun on ma wife's flesh
is thinkin.
The nicht ma haun
canna read nur screive.
Neither luein nur unluein...
It's the tongue o a leopard at a lowp,
a grape leaf,
a wolf's cleuk.
Tae meeve, breathe, ett, drink.
Ma haun is like a seed
brakkin lowse unnergrun.
Neither a sang o the hairt nur "common sense, "
neither luein nur unluein.
Ma haun thinkin on ma wife's flesh
is the haun o the first cheil.
Like a reet that finns watter unnergrun,
it sez tae me:
"Tae ett, drink, cauld, hett, warssle, snuff, colour-
nae tae live in order tae dee
bit tae dee tae live..."

An noo
as reid female hair blaws ower ma face,
as somethin steers on the grun,
as the trees fusper in the derk,
an as the meen heists hyne aff
far we canna see,
ma haun on ma wife's flesh
afore the trees, birdies, an gollachs,
I wint the richt o life,
o the leopard at the lowp, o the seed brakkin ajee-
I wint the richt o the first chiel.




Yestreen
Fin aa is said an daen,
Wrack cams tae ane an aa,
Oh, fey licht o yestreen.

Throw paths bi briers taen
The wersh wins sooch an blaw:
Oh fey licht o yestreen.

Ooto the past, alane
I've watched the blossoms faa
Oh, fey licht o yestreen.

Bairnhood wis swete an green
The whaup's cheenged tae a craa
Oh, fey licht o yestreen.

My kinsmen sleep neth stane
Springtime's gaen wey tae snaa:
Oh, fey licht o yestreen.

Sae mony hooses teem!
Like stoor, fowk wheeched awa:
Fae, neebor, kinsman, frien,
Oh, fey licht o yestreen.


Wirdies
Oxter, fooner, ficher, styter
Teeterlogic, gammie, hyter

Heelstergowdie, merriematanzie
Stammygaster, blether, ganzie

Skinnymalinkie, peely wally
Scunner, fyky, blooter, swallae

Hornygollach, puddock, cattie
Girse, bumshayvelt, sotter, rattie

Yalla, siller, gowden, blae
Rowan, showdie-powdie, strae

Chiel, quine, humfy, clishmaclaver
Semmit, troosers, sark an spayver

Ootlinn, waa, langamachie
Bowster, screiver, seannachie

Warlock, eildritch, mingin, cauld
Spurgie, scurvie, bodach, auld

Aiblich, parten, keech an howe
Bubblyejock, dumfoonert, knowe
Clarty, dubby, skreichin, birlin
Heelstergowdie, girnin, furlin

Lowpin, flechin, coorie doon
Hoolet, houghmagandie, goun
Wattergaw an hurlygush
Skirps an tooshties, nippicks, smush

Hurcheon, widdershins an cowp
Coorse, mishanter, skelpit dowp

Yeities, leverocks, pirn taes
Dauchle, raxx, ill nature, waes

Stammygaster, sauch an sheugh
Slidder, sleekit, fyaach, eneuch!



Three Limericks

I aince kent a chielwi a beard
Inside it a rooster wis reared
Ilkie mornin it crawed,
Till ae day it snawed,
An the frozen stiff cock disappeared!


There was a young quine frae Dundee,
Fa swam in the Tay's chilly bree;
Bit a dolphin rael fat,
Lowpit ontae her back,
Sae she drooned, a richt coorse wey tae dee.


There was an auld mannie frae Banchory,
Fa chokit fin ettin an anchovy;
Noo he anely etts baps,
Milky puddens or saps,
An has gaen up aa hanker-pankery