On the 8th of May, my late grandfather, a crowned bard, would have been 99. Here is a (literal) translation I did of my favourite of his Gàidhlig poems:
Flùraichean / Flowers
“Of all the sights I see
It’s the flowers that snatch at my heart;
For as I ponder through the fields
They lift my mood and appetite.
Millions marching throughout the world
And found in every corner.
An infinite blessing on the One who thought,
Upon the shepherd forever tending.
Plentiful throughout the meadows;
On the banks and in every garden.
Jewellery of precious stones
On the white proud breast of nature.
They gaze gleefully from its shoulders
when the seasons are sweetly smiling.
Until she folds them safely up
When cold danger and hardship approach.
Sometimes, I try to deny a part of their beauty,
Setting them against
Other gifts the God of Grace gave us
But notwithstanding my tribulations
I’ll admit and It’ll be said to me
That there was nought ever as handsome without soul
As the little flower of the desert.
When I’m pained
To suffer the trials of this world
It is my desire if it can be done
To take a trip into the desert
Where I can converse closely
With the sweet smelling flowers
And see children
Diligently twisting them into garlands.
Those bonds man cannot understand
Always between child and flower:
Both innocents blooming fresh and renewed
They won’t die till age takes their heads off
Without trouble, blame or care,
In close companionship with nature
Taking heaven to the borders of the world
Like a revelation; a wish of God.
I cannot tell
How many thousands of meadows they proliferate
Between the machair and the ditches:
Even in the thirsty deserts,
Every hill and mountain brim,
Every deer forest and moor is full of them
Universal in every land
Thick as the grains of the shore.
Often we look with happiness
At the colours of the rainbow high in the sky -
Yet sailors of the stratosphere do but complain when
Compared to the graceful moors,
The scarlet mountains,
With every colour together
Feeding the eye of beauty
They gaze upon the covering of life.
Primroses the colour of the sun,
Clover deep as the ragged waves,
Dog-violet as blue as the heavens,
Daisies worthy of gold and silver,
Roses red and white adorn the branches,
And lilies fall as snow on the rough moorland.
Voice and speech cannot describe it
Nor can an artist with brush to canvas.
Wasn’t it a most ravishing mix of colours?
Nature’s beguiling, becoming dress
A comely suit that makes us aware
When it’s sunny, calm and warming
Cursed be bad weather
Which brings with it the icy bite of winter
And puts beautiful holy flowers
Out of sight until the seasons depart.
Before I part with you dear flower
Tell me the secret to your joy.
Mankind holds you in high regard
Seeking you as a lover would.
But you do not cheat the world’s ways for long
The blemish of old age stains you not
Till a long time after you fade away into the soil,
Your glamour ever obsesses me.
You are the messengers of peace
Who will banish ill-will and hatred.
You are the guiding light of the desert
To the hopeless who trundle after.
You are truth’s greatest revelation
Who will not betray me for as long as I live.
For it’s not the land that gives you essence
But the One with whom awoke my consciousness.
I see you on a noble’s table,
I see you in a virgin’s locks,
I see you in abandoned corners,
I see you with the wedding party,
I see you at the graveside
Holding court with those I loved -
Rich and poor in your presence
All gain an intangible delight.
It’s a past time for me in the winter
When the mountains gloom
And I think of summer
When the glens grow green -
When that picture comes to mind
It’ll spin in my head
Flowers backwards and forwards
Busy dancing in my thoughts.
And when death comes to call me,
I’m soothed by the everlasting sleep
Of being buried as a Christian
With a headstone beside the sea.
My only wish is there be hundreds
Of every kind of flower giving life at the grave.
With that thought, thank god
My soul, at least, will be smiling.”