1.The Robin’s Nest
Guid day noo bonnie Robin, an whit dae ye hae here?
A nest I’ve bigged wi muckle care frae screivins far an near
There are three eggies in thon nest. Whit bides inbye each shell’s
A hairst o wirds by seannachies an bards frae Ayr tae Yell
The first egg hauds a rowth o poems wad break yer hairt tae hear
The secunt hauds a core o buiks o poets an their lear
The third egg hauds a magic cloud, kens aa that ye micht speir
An I maun guaird thon sky-blue eggs frae tod, or piercin thorn
A kintra’s barderie needs a hame fur littlins yet unborn
2.Amangst the Trees three Birds war Steerin
Amangst the trees three birds war steerin
Deil the feather tae their name
Three wee fledglins raxxin, skreichin
Cheep cheep ma, wir wymes are teem
Gies a wirm, a hornygollach
A sappy slug, a forkietail,
An emerteen, a furry moch
The squashed intimmers o a snail
Inbye a hoose, three bairns war steerin
Bed-time, bit wi nae remeid
Three wee bairnies, tcyauvin, skreichin
Greetin fur a buik tae read
Stories steek their een at nicht
Dragons, feys, in widlans deep
Fin the meen shines in the derkness
Stories pave the wye tae sleep
3.Somethin in us niver dees
Thrawn Janet haunts the midnicht oor
Somethin in us niver dees
Tho Stevenson is nocht bit stoor
A buik aince born takks wing an flees
Holy Willy…fa’d forget?
Somethin in us niver dees
Tho Burns langsyne is wirm’s maet
A buik aince born takks wing an flees
Rob Roy, daithless, wields his sword
Somethin in us niver dees
Walter Scott lies in the yird
A buik aince born takks wing an flees
Iain Banks an Muriel Spark
Somethin in us niver dees
Flesh an bluid maun tirr its sark
A buik aince born takks wing an flees
4. Black an Fite Cat
The Black an Fite cat wi the lugs o fur
Is chawin a paper bird
wi a smudge on his snoot that micht be ink
he's ettin up ilkie wird
the paper wings hae sentences
that melt on the tongue like a dream
the black an fite cat wi the lugs o fur
wad rather hae thochts than cream
5. Dream o the Restless Bairnickie
I dreamt I jyned the Seelie Coort
An rade upon a futterat’s back
It could baith flee an sweem the tide
An breenge ben mony’s a happit track
I slept aneth a puddock’s steel
I sprouted wings, sae moosewab licht
I climmed the steepest watter linn
Haudin a salmon’s tailie, ticht
I steppit inno warlocks’ haas
An watched them steer their potions roon
I wyved ma eildtrich wan, an syne
I gart ten siller stars drap doon
I kept a tiger in ma pooch
I liked tae hear it yawn an purr
An fin a bogieman lowped oot
It chased him wi a muckle gurr
I fand a gowden clarsach braw
It played me mony’s the canty tune
An it could daunce baith but and ben
Frae midnicht’s quaet tae noisy noon
An fin it rained, abune ma heid
I held alaft a gowan flooer
An fin it snaaed a robin tuik
An warmed me in its feathery booer
I hurled on beeswings throw the mist
Tae crannies mortals dinna ken
Tae play wi feys an fire-flauchts *lightning bolts
The blithest bairnie in the glen!
6.A Waddin Toast
Be as the swans that glimmer ower the loch
Waddit for life, until Daith dis them pairt
Be as the Cushie Doos, that coort foraye
Their dearies, wi a douce an tender-hairt
Be as the Ernes, sae fierce, an yet sae leal
Far reengin, yet wi a returnin wing
Be as the Hoolets, bosied in the laft
Inbye their nest, fur comfort see them cling
As burnie seeks the sea, an trees seek the air
The merriege o a man an wife should be
As blythe as blossom in the aspen’s hair
As merry as the rowan on the lea
It merks the stert o halvin life’s lang tcyaave
Fin twa lie doon tae taste life’s sweets thegither
Sae let the bells ring oot, the whisky poor
Let aa gweed wishes bless this pair foriver
7.A Scots owersett of ‘Embrace’, a poem by Billy Collins
Bosie
Ye ken the kitchie gemme
Wipp yer airms aroon her ain corp
An frae ahin, it luiks like
Someyin’s kinoodlin ye
Her hauns, grippin yer sark
Her fingernails kittlin yer nape
Frae the front it’s anither maitter
Ye niver luiked sae alane,
yer crossed elbucks an daft grin.
Ye could be wytin for a tailor
tae meisur ye for a straichtjaiket,
ane that wid haud ye really ticht.
8.A Scots Owersett of ‘The Father' by Nguyen Duy,
The Faither
In this airt there are sae mony
Wha spent hauf their life in Viet Bac,
The ither hauf amang the Truong Song Bens,
Chiels an weemen wha aince ett reets, bamboo shoots fur maet
An noo makk dae wi taro leaves an wud tendrils.
Their gran hopes hae turned their skulls fite,
Their kent clachans sae hyne awa noo, like hyne aff Sizzens
A lifetime working in sun and rain,
A lifetime waukin, an they've yet tae reach hame.
Aa alang the hyne horizon, faimilies dover ower in sleep.
A faither auld as a thoosan knows, a mither auld as a hunner burns.
Whan the wins cam, they'll hae tae arc an cercle, climm ower
The muckle ins an oots o the wids tae win tae this airt.
9.An Owersett in Scots of ‘How Lies Grow’, by Maxine Chernoff
The first time I leed tae ma bairn
I telt him it wis his physog on the pot o bairn maet.
The secunt time I leed tae ma bairn
I telt him that he wis the best bairn in the warld
That I hoped he’d niver leave me
Of course I wint him tae leave me ae day.
I dinna wint him tae turn inno ane o thon creashie shaddas
Fa bide in their mither’s hooses glowerin at gemme shows aa day.
The third time I leed tae ma bairn,
Quo I, ’Isn’t she bonnie? ’
O the wumman fa’d kittled him in his pram
She wis auld an ill-faur’t, wi a smitt
The fourth time I leed tae ma bairn
I telt him the truith, I thocht.
I telt him he’d hae tae leave me someday
Or risk turnin inno a chiel in a dickie tie
Fa etts macaroni on Fridays
I telt him it wis for the best,
Bit syne I thocht, I wint him tae bide wi me foraye.
Ae day, he’ll gyang awa frae me.
Syne, fit’ll I dae?
10.A Scots Owesett of 'Psalm before Sleep'by Peter Cooley
Psalm afore Sleep
Except for ma corp, fa gyangs wi me
inno this wee daith? Except for the starnies
openin noo in the lift abune,
except for the boatie I fit inno sae snod,
ma airms, ma shanks, chitterin tae thaw,
dividin the muckle tides bearin me forrit.
Except for this sang, the win in my lugs
That’s jyned the lift, recitin a blaik music
the aybydan life gaes on repeatin in seelence.
This is the wye oot: the morn I’m some ither body
I’ll meet ee tae ee, the ither shore raxxin up.
This is the poem my wirds niver bring back.
11.An Owersett in Scots o ‘Silence’ bi Primo Levi,
An unspukken kennin says that naebody spikks:
in a glisk, aabodies’ sleepin, elbucks rammed teetle elbucks,
faain o a suddenty forrit an yarkin upricht wi a stiffenin back.
Ahin the jist-steeked een, dreams brakk oot wi virr, the ordnar dream.
Tae be at hame in a winnerfu hett bath.
Tae be at hame dowpit doon at the table.
Tae be at hame, an tell the tale o the hopeless darg o oors,
o this niver eyndin hunger.
O the slave’s wye o sleepin.’
12.Fit Div ye Dae?
Fit div ye dae fin the enemy’s comin?
Bide, or hide, or flee?
Fit div ye dae fin the enemy’s comin?
Set yer beasts aa free?
Fit div ye dae fin the enemy’s comin?
Gie them a cheery wave?
Fit div ye dae fin the enemy’s comin?
Dig yer neebor’s grave?
Fit div ye dae fin the enemy’s comin?
Makk them yer foe or frien?
Fit div ye dae fin the enemy’s comin?
Sup wi a smaaer speen?
13.Ersatz on Jersey
Tea frae brummils, nettles, carrots
Coffee frae acorns or parsnips
Fags rowed ooto docken leaves
As fur maet, rowe up yer sleeves
Catch a rubbit, chap it up
Makk a stew or soup tae sup
14.Mussel Moued Charlie (1676-1782)
Mussel-moued Charlie, skinnymalink
Heich as a pine tree, thin’s a reed
Fiery een that pierced wi a blink
A lantern jaw like a corp lang deid
A gangrel body, he traivelled roon
Aiberdeenshire, staff in his haun
He lived till a hunner an five year auld
A lantern jaw like a corp lang deid
He carried his sangs in a leather pyoke
Wi a Bible hung frae a bittie o towe
In the fifteen, oot, an the forty five
A Jacobite hero throwe an throwe
The auldest body in Aiberdeen
Twis at Auld Rayne he last drew braith
The North British Wikkly magazine
Wis sae sair-made it merked his daith
Mussel-moued Charlie, a Lesly born
Fowk sing his ballads an airs the day
Mussel-moued Charlie, hawker chiel
Pairt o the plaid o a kintra’s play
15.The Royal Mount
I heard a ghillie caa the Royal Mount, John Broon
Of coorse it is masel, the sturdy Fyvie, strang in the hochs
Haudin alaft the queen’s braid sonsie dowp
An here we staun in a dreich doonpish at Balmoral
Rain skytin aff ma neck on a dowie day
John Broon luikin dour, a face like a torn cloot
He’s wishin hissel inbye wi a warmin dram
Dry kilt, the favour o his monarch’s lug
An fit mair fa’s tae ken, an less daur say
I dream o ma hett stable, strae an hey
The queen’s o hardy stock. Nae doot
Anither oor o dreepin weet
Humphin her up the braes o the Royal seat.
16.At the Brig o Dee
Throwe the hairt o the derkenin toun, the toun o granite,
The toun o gulls, skreichin ower siller streets
By the lums on terraced reefs, the scholastic touers,
Ben luvers’ fuspers an beggars priggin spikk
The great Dee ripples an rins tae the ootraxxed sea
Wi a sabbin soun at the auncient, sturdy brig
Far traffic poors inbye frae the Central belt
Creep- creepie up frae its sides, the hoosin schemes,
Wi their banks o chitterin daffs, their worn girse
The fisher wheechs his net ower the deeper puils
An farrer doon the bows o the ile-rig ships, dunt
An rain comes treetlin doon as the grey clouds shift
Fin the lichts come on, an the nicht hings in the wings
O the starnie Heivens, thoosans o fowk lang deid
Heeze on the shores o the river, ghaists o the gaen
An ay the rain faas doon, as if the toun wis greetin.
17.51st Highlander poem: Owerset in Scots below
Là á Bhlàir's math na Càirdean
Friens are gweed on the day o battle
Na diobair caraid's a charraid
Dinna forsakk a frien in the fecht
Cuimhnichibh na suinn nach maireann.
Mairidh an cliu beo gu brath.
Mynd the Heroes fa gaed their aa
May their Fame live on, frae the grave’s twilicht
18.A Puckle Doric Wirds I Like
Atween, abeen, aneth, anither
Black affrontit, bairnie, mither
Cantie, vauntie, stooshie, cauld
Craitur, clachan, clype, twa fauld
Daunder, dottlet, deave an deen
Drookit, dreich, delichtit, steen
Faither, fa, fit, far an fan
Feart, fash, ficher, flech an lan
Foonert, fyky, flittin, baa
Glaikit, gypit, gulshoch, snaa
Hairstin, hirplin, hale an hoose
Hinney, boolies, beddies, moose
Ingins, aipples, neeps, ill-tricket
Jeloused, joco, dumfounert, strippit
Kirk, kist, lochan, lugs an loons
Leid, laird, lea-rig, cweets an croons
Foggy-bummer, futterat, fooshtie
Fair ferfochan, fowk an roostie
Ganzie, greetin, guddle, gype
Gangrel, greetin, minkit, swipe
Mony, mochie, mools, an meer
Neuk, oot, orra, onding, sweir
Puckle, peely-wally, puir
Quine, reive, riggin, richt an muir
Raikin, roose, rowth, contermaschious
Scaffie, scutter, skelloch, fashious
Semmit, sottar, speirin, skail
Scunnert, stammygaster, kail
Tattie, teuchter, thrapple, thocht
Trauchelt, toonser, thrawn an socht
Wabbit, watter, widen, wark
Wizzent, yowie, wifie, sark
Oxters, shouders, gee-gaws, dyke
Add as mony mair’s ye like
19.The Bewteis of the Fute-Ball:
(An early short anonymous Scottish poem)
Brissit, brawnis and broken banis,
Strife, discord and waistit wanis,
Crookit in eild, syn halt withal –
These are the bewteis of the fute-ball
20.Fitbaa
See them on the fitba park
Breengin up like girselowpers
Heidin the baa, ram stam, like chairgin bulls
Duntin doon in the glaur
Skirlin, skelpin in tries
Rowin in dubs like grumphies
Snotters fleein oot their nebs
Slivvers frae their mous
Nae time tae dicht them awa
In sna, in a doonpish, in haar
Wyvin their airms like tattie bogles
Hairy shanks, hudderie heids
Sweirin, wenchin, boozin
Wi ither celebs
An the fans, fechtin, malagaroozin ane anither
Lauchin, ettin rowies an pies
Greetin, skreichin, wyin bunnets an flags
Weirin Wee Jimmy hats
An eftir, the players
Scrattit knees, stounin shins
Pick up the pye packet
Nae bad fur an eftirneen’s wirk
21.The Following Poems are Scots Owersets of Japanese Tankas
Lady Ise 870-935, influental daughter of a province governor
E’en fur a span
Cuttie’s a jynt o a teenie segg
Frae Naniwa’s bog,
We maun niver tryst again
In this life? This, dae ye speir?
Fujiwara no Kintsune
Nae the snaa o flooers,
That the hashin wud wind furls
Roon the gairden coort:
Fit dwines an faas awa
In this airt is I masel.
Fujiwara no Kinto (Fujiwara no Kinto) 966-1041, imperial counsellor
Tho the wattergaw
In its flow, stapped langsyne,
An its soun is seelence;
Yet, in name it iver rins,
An in fame micht yet be heard.
Lady Shikishi Naishinno (Shokushi Naishinno) 1150-1201
daughter of Emperor Go-Shirakawa
Life! Thon towe o gems!
Gin ye are tae eyn, brakk noo.
For, gin yet I live,
Aa I dae tae hide ma luve
May at the hinnereyn dwine an fooner.
Scots Owersetts of 4 poems by Ono no Komachi.
Ono no Komachi c.825 – c.900 was a Japanese waka poet, one of the Rokkasen—the Six best Waka poets of the early Heian period. She was renowned for her unusual beauty, and Komachi is today a synonym for feminine beauty in Japan. She also counts among the Thirty-six Poetry Immortals.
1) Did I catch a glisk o him
Because I fell asleep
Thinkin aboot him?
If anely I’d kent I wis dream
I’d niver hae waukent
2) Nae wye tae see him
On this meenless nicht—
I lie waukent, langin, burnin,
Breist racin like a lowe,
Hairt in flames.
3) The girselowpers sing
In the gloamin
Of my clachan on the Ben
The nicht, naebody
Will veesit bar the win.
4) Since this corp
Wis forgotten
By the ane wha pledged tae cam,
My anely thocht is winnerin
Whether it’s even leevin.
From English translations of the Man’yoshu and the book, “The Ink Dark Moon”, by Hirshfield and Aratani.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem