Between them they helped the ancient of days out of his crystal cell; it wasn’t hard, for he was as light as paper, and he would have followed them anywhere, having no will of his own, and responding to simple kindness like a flower to the sun. But in the open air there was nothing to stop the wind from damaging him, and to their dismay his form began to loosen and dissolve. Only a few moments later he had vanished completely, and their last impression was of those eyes, blinking in wonder, and a sigh of the most profound and exhausted relief.
Then he was gone: a mystery dissolving in mystery.
Luke to Franky, Skins
What a charmer, eh! =L
As a prospective neuroscientist, the notion of an ejaculating brain fills me with glee…
Do they only stand
By ignorance, is that their happy state,
The proof of their obedience and their faith?”
“Bu tu camhanaich air a’ Chuilthionn,
’s latha suilbhir air a’ Chlàraich,
grian air a h-uilinn anns an òr-shruth,
agus ròs geal bristeadh fàire.
Làinnir sheòl air linne ghrianaich,
Gorm a’ chuain is iarmailt àr-bhuidh,
An òg-mhadainn ‘na do chuailean
‘s na do ghruaidhean soilleir àllainn.
Mo leug camhanaich is oidhche
T’ aodann ‘s do choibhneas gràdhach,
Ged tha bior glas an dòlais
Tro chliabh m’òg-mhaidne sàthte.”
You were dawn on the mountain,
And daylight dancing over the water,
A sun on her elbow in the gold-stream
And a white rose breaking the horizon.
Glitter of sails on a sunlit firth
The blue depths and bronzed sky
Morning is young in your hair,
And in your cheeks, bright, beautiful.
My jewel of night and daybreak -
your face, your love and kindness,
Though the arrows of misfortune
Marr this morning of our youth.
NOTE: Both Sorley MacLean and Iain Crichton Smith have translated this poem too. I borrowed one line from Smith “glitter of sails on a sunlit firth” but otherwise the translation is my own, inadequate, work. I have deRassified and simplified the poem to make it more English-friendly. In Gaidhlig the first line “Bu tu camhanaich air a’ Chuilthionn” has an almost Biblical feel in the majesty MacLean sees in Eimhir, but the Cuilthionn means little to non-Highlanders, so I just generalized it to mountains. Gaelic words like ‘og-mhadainn’ have no real English equivalents either, so I just gave up and made up something similar. I hope you enjoy my translation.