Create accountLogin

Recent searches

No recent searches

Search options

Only available when logged in.
mstdn.social is one of the many independent Mastodon servers you can use to participate in the fediverse.
A general-purpose Mastodon server with a 500 character limit. All languages are welcome.

Administered by:

Server stats:

14K
active users

mstdn.social: AboutStatusProfiles directoryPrivacy policy

Mastodon: AboutGet the appKeyboard shortcutsView source codev4.3.8

#clearances

2 posts1 participant0 posts today
Public
Assoc for Scottish Literature

A liuthad soitheach a dh’fhàg ar dùthaich
le sgiathan geala a’ toirt Chanada orra.
Tha iad mar neapaigearan ’nar cuimhne
’s an sàl mar dheoirean,
’s anns na croinn aca seòladairean a’ seinn
mar eòin air gheugan…

Iain Mac a’ Ghobhainn, “Na h-Eilthirich” (Iain Crichton Smith, “The Exiles”)
Published in Nua-Bhardachd Gaidhlig / Modern Scottish Gaelic Poems, @canongatebooks 1999

canongate.co.uk/books/193-mode

Na h-Eilthirich Iain Mac a’ Ghobhainn A liuthad soitheach a dh’fhàg ar dùthaich le sgiathan geala a’ toirt Chanada orra. Tha iad mar neapaigearan ’nar cuimhne ’s an sàl mar dheoirean, ’s anns na croinn aca seòladairean a’ seinn mar eòin air gheugan. Muir a’ Mhàigh ud, gu gorm a’ ruith, gealach air an oidhche, grian air an latha, ach a’ ghealach mar mheas buidhe, mar thruinnsear air balla, ris an tog iad an làmhan, no mar mhagnet airgeadach le gathan goirte a’ sruthadh do’n chridhe.
The Exiles Iain Crichton Smith The many ships that left our country with white wings for Canada. They are like handkerchiefs in our memories and the brine like tears and in their masts sailors singing like birds on branches. That sea of May, running in such blue, a moon at night, a sun at daytime, and the moon like a yellow fruit, like a plate on a wall, to which they raise their hands, like a silver magnet with piercing rays streaming into the heart.
#Scottish#literature#Gaelic
Continued thread
Public
David O'Brien

And

Proud tonight the pine cocks
crowing on the top of Cnoc an Ra,
straight their backs in the moonlight –
they are not the wood I love.

MacLean was writing in the 1930s, in the shadow of #fascism –but still in living memory of the #Clearances – about what we'd now call "invasive species".

He saw them as equivalents. People and place and land and forest, they are all one thing,

ExploreLive feeds
About