Scots Poems Into The Blue Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Extracts set in Doric, from Guaraní poems (Sao Paulo)by Susy Delgado, from English translations by Susan Smith Nash

I'm deein tae spikk
bit it's nicht already
an I'm on the road.
It's still nicht
altho it's daybrakk
on ma tongue,
altho it's daybrakk
in ma hans,
Langsyne

Altho I'm scrattin,
I'm teirin flesh wi ma nails,
I'm raikin
fur fit happened tae ma spikk;
It's still steekit nicht
an I dinna win
In the steekit nicht,
spikk that skinkles
like thon hyne awa starnie.

In the steekit nicht
an in the derk faddoms,
it tint itsel
slippit awa frae me
my precious spikk,
my wee sang.
In the steekit nicht,
in its hidden hairt,
I'm deein fur it.

And I, nanetheless -
I copy the birdies,
the ragin wolf,
the hornet, the craa,
the wud boar,
the puddock,
the rattlesnake,
the locust,
the hoolet.
breets sae hyne awa,
an I wint tae repon tae
aa o them.
Thon fa, on the eirde
an in the lift
bide singin,
I wint tae jyne them,
aa multiplee,
aa alane,
aa bi masel.


Scots owersetts here of poems bi Juan Delgado

Raid
Ernesto's buit heels are wud hooves
Bein roped in, left bun in the air.
Carmen, slaw-fittit, seek wi bairn,
Fechts them aff bi sweengin her purse.
"Pinche cabrones saben hablar español
Cuando nos van a arrestar, "
(Dam't bastarts ken foo tae spikk Spanish
Fin they're gaunt ae arrest us)
she says
As her voyce is drooned oot bi a raw
O washin machines on their rinse settin.
Like a cattie flegged ooto a trash bin,
Sal rins intae the street.

Chorus: ¡Chingado! (screwed up)


A Quine an her Faither
We wir drivin ben toon, Mam,
Richt bi far fowk catch the bus
Fin this chiel lowps oot richt afore us.
Da braked. His een grew this big, Mam.

He wis rinnin frae the law, thon's siccar.
Jist be gled naebody wis hurtit, dearie.
Try nae tae think aboot it onymair, dearie.
We winna gae thon wey again, thon's siccar.


A Young Mither
Can ye think foo mony hippens
We gaed throwe wi the twins?
The haive-awa anes wir far ower dear,
Sae we cheenged tae claith. They wir braw. Na,
We didnae wash them. Thank God, we'd a service.
We jist pit the clarty anes in plastic pyokes,
An they colleckit them an drapped aff clean anes
Richt on oor porch ilkie twa wikks.
It made maitters sae much easier. An ye ken,
We didnae hae tae fash aboot thon simmer rashes
Because their wee bihoochies could breathe better.
Gin ya can afford the service, jist pye it.
Or at least dae it fur the first sax months.
It's even gweed fur the environment.


Scots Owesetts o Nippicksfrae First Nation Screivers

Lakota Indian
An growin in ma lugs
Are the sound I think we ken
The flicht o laigh geese
The fearie skirl o hoolets
The sudden faa o scree


Swamp Cree Indian
I gae backwyes, luik forrit
Like the porcupine


Mayon Poet
Wi rivers o greets
We murned oor sacred screivins
Amang the delicate flooers o sorra


Chippewa
Dream sang
In the lift
I am walkin
Alang wi a birdie


Hoolet Wumman Medicine Sang: o the Papago tribe
Foo'll I stert ma sang?
In the blue nicht that is sattlin
In the great nicht ma hairt'll gae oot
Tae me the derkness cams rattlin
In the great nicht ma hairt'll gae oot


Blackfoot Lullaby
Cam, wolf,
Bite this babby
He winna sleep!


Indian Prayer o a Wumman in Jizzen bed
May I hae nae tribble
An gie birth tae ma bairn easy
I rely on the Dawn
O the day, Peety me!


Scots owersetts of extracts from poems by Chief Dan George

Extract frae Prayer fur ma Brither the Bear
…Makk the mwwn shine saftly ben the nichts o his bairntime
Sae the waemth o his mither will aywis be in his myndin

Makk a rowth o berries growe an sweetness, sae that the virr o life
Will gie smeddum tae his hairt an the years o his auld age
Shall niver be a wecht tae his corp

…Sherpen the senses o his lugs and snoot sae they'll keep herm frae him

…Syne, ma wud brither, the bear, will aywis hae a wilderness
As lang as the sun traivels the lift


Extract frae Ma Face is the Lan
…Yet already, syne, ma face wis weel kent
It wis kent bi the squirrel that heard a twig brakk
Aneth ma fit fin I wauked in the wids

It wis kent tae the porcupine that sat in the tree
An watched me gyang aneth

It wis kent tae the corbie
Fa skreiched ta either craiturs o ma camin

It wis kent tae the tod fas fa rypit ma maet
An tae the beaver fa watched me set traps

It wis kent tae the bear fas den and ma hoose
Wir in the same wids

It wis kent tae Lang Sannie fa larned me patience
Fin sikkin fur maet

It wis kent tae the wee dooker fas sang
Filled ma hairt wi bltheness

It wis kent tae the win that brocht me messages
Frae the ither craiturs an plants
…bit like the wolf that sune'll be gaen frae here
Ma face is the face o a vanishin kind

…ma face is the lan!


A Scots Alphabet
A is fur aiblich, an ashet, an auld
B is fur breengin, an bannock an bauld
C is fur cailleach an cooryin doon
D is fur drookit, disjaskit an droon
E if fur eident, fur Embro an een
F is fur fankle, fur fleggit, fur frien
G is fur galluses, gangrel an giein
H is fur haivers, fur haflin, fur Heilan
I's fur intimmers.fur ingle, fur ingin
J is fur jizzen bed joukin an jinkin
K is fur kenspeckle, kailyaird an kittly
L is fur laldie, langamachie, lintie
M is fur mollochin, muckle an michty
N is fur nochty, an numpty an nerra
O is fur on -ding an oxter an orra
P is fur pawky an partan an peever
Q's queerieorrals an quinie an quanter
R is fur reamin an reekin an rowans
S is fur scaffie an scunner an sowens
T's tattiebogle, an taigle an tattie
U is fur unca, unchancy, uncannie
V is fur veesiter, vratchie, an vauntie
W is fur wallagoo, wabbit an wame
X is the merk the unlarnt pit fur name
Y is fur yalla, fur yarkin, fur yowes
Z is fur zebra in Africk's hett howes
An thon is the alphabet screivit in Scots
DSL 's handy fur jynin the dots!


Immigration by Proxy
Fin young, granmither shared her life
Wi a cousin, frae Ceylon, cam here tae study

Throw her, she larnt o coolies, Buddha, Ganesh,
A warld awa, in misty tea plantations

I think o Singhalese weemen
Warmin her brither's bed
O faither's cousin, sirin un-named bairnies
Far fruit bats gorge in steamy tropic trees

Masel, I've seen a Nor East ferm wirker
His chaumer, bare as a bane
Stane fleer, wee basse, ae kist, a pail fur coal
A short wauk frae ma uncle's cosie ferm
It roastin lowe, its warm yoam o bakin

I think o their common puirtith
The orra man, the slim plantation picker
Baith in tied hooses, hired bi sonsie maisters

I think o ma granminnie
Niver traivellin ooto her Nor East neuk
Sharin bi proxy, her cousin's exotic warld
Encercled bi her cousin's Eastern braisse

I catched the smit frae thon,
I crossed the seas, a gowk bird in the nest
Tae see thon tear drap unner India
Sri Lanka's hill kintra, some like oor ain
An nae a chaunce tae trace oor bluid kin thonner


The Bletherskate
A bawbag merriet a bletherskate
In Auchtermuchty they settled
Bit ilkie time she opened her moo
The mair his cage she rattled

Until he fand the auld remeid
He stappit his lugs wi oo
Syne she micht girn like the shrew she wis
As he suppit his Irn Bru


The Cuddy
Ma cuddy sings like a lintie
Bit his heid is fu o mince
Tho he's nae yer ordnar cuddy
His favourite maet in quince

Ma cuddy's teeth are pearly
As fite as Arctic snaa
His eelashes are furly
He's got his facebuik in his staa

Ma cuddy studies yoga
He knits sarks ooto noodles
Fin a bonnie shelt cams veesitin
Its kisses an kinoodles

Ma cuddy's a special constable
He gyangs tae fitbaa matches
An gin the crowd get ooto haun
He roons them up in batches

He's winnerfu in the kitchie
He makks gran Cullen skink
Bit leaves the ashets steepin
In fool bree like a mink

David Hockney cam tae peint him
‘Cuddy at rest, ' he caad it
Bit ma cuddy ett the canvas
An tuik the easel an chaaed it


Nelly the Panda
There aince wis a panda caad Nelly
Fa stuffed bamboo leaves in her belly
Fin faced bi the press
Nelly tried tae impress
Bi shooglin her bum on the telly


The Cockroach
A cockroach lives wikks wi nae heid
Till wi hunger it's finally deid
It's kinder tae smash it
Tae blooter an crash it
Sae daein a really gweed deed


Hives
In Spanish, eposas means wives
And handcuffs as well! (locked down lives)
Fin deciding tae wed
Ca cannie it's said
Because nags can be nesty as hives


Scots Owersett of a poem bi Elie Wiesel frae ‘The America I Love'

Thon day I met the first American sodjers
in the Buchenwald killin camp.
I mynd them weel.

Bumbazed, dumfounert, they wauked aroon the place,
hell on the Eirde,
far we'd dreed oor Weird.

They luikit at us,
jist freed,
an didnae ken fit tae dae or say.

Survivors wheeched frae the derk thrall o daith,
we wir teem o aa hope—
ower dweeble, ower sterved tae bosie them or even spikk tae them.

Like tint bairns, the American sodjers grat an grat wi roose an wae.
An we tuik their greets as gin they wir hairt teirin offerins
frae a hurtit an gweed hairtit humanity.