Gur duilich leam mar tha mi

'S mo chridhe 'n sas aig bron

Bhon an uair a dh'fhag mi

Beanntan ard a' cheo

Gleanntannan a'mhanrain

Nan loch, nam bagh 's nan srom

'S an eala bhan tha tamh ann

Gach la air 'm bheil mi 'n toir.



A Mhagaidh na bi tursach

A ruin, ged gheibhinn bas-

Co am fear am measg an t-sluaigh

A mhaireas buan gu brath?

Chan eil sinn uile ach air chuairt

Mar dhithein buaile fas

Bheir siantannan na blianna sios

'S nach tog a' ghrian an aird.



Tha 'n talamh leir mun cuairt dhiom

'Na mheallan suas 's na neoil;

Aig na 'shells a' bualadh -

Cha leir dhomh bhuam le ceo:

Gun chlaisneachd aig mo chluasan

Le fuaim a' ghunna mhoir;

Ach ged tha 'n uair seo cruaidh orm

Tha mo smuaintean air NicLeoid.



Air m' uilinn anns na truinnsichean

Tha m' inntinn ort, a ghraidh;

Nam chadal bidh mi a' bruadar ort

Cha dualach dhomh bhith slan;

Tha m' aigne air a lionadh

Le cianalas cho lan

'S a'ghruag a dh'fhas cho ruadh orm

A nis air thuar bhith ban



Oidhche mhath leat fhein, a ruin

Nad leabaidh chubhraidh bhlath;

Cadal samhach air a chul

Do dhusgadh sunndach slan

Tha mise 'n seo 's an truinnsidh fhuar

'S nam chluasan fuaim bhais

Gun duil ri faighinn as le buaidh -

Tha 'n cuan cho buan ri shnamh.



The White Swan



Sad I consider my condition

With my heart engaged with sorrow

From the very time that I left

The high bens of the mist

The little glens of dallaince

Of the lochans, the bays and the forelands

And the white swan dwelling there

Whom I daily pursue.



Maggie, don't be sad

Love, if I should die -

Who among men

Endures eternally?

We are all only on a journey

Like flowers in the deserted cattle fold

That the year's wind and rain will bring down

And that the sun cannot raise.



All the ground around me

Is like hail in the heavens;

With the shells exploding -

I am blinded by smoke:

My ears are deafened

By the roar of the cannon;

But despite the savagery of the moment

My thoughts are on the girl called MacLeod.



Crouched in the trenches

My mind is fixed on you, love;

In sleep I dream of you

I am not fated to survive;

My spirit is filled

With a surfeit of longing

And my hair once so auburn

Is now almost white.



Goodnight to you, love

In your warm, sweet-smelling bed;

May you have peaceful sleep and afterwards

May you waken healthy and in good spirits

I am here in the cold trench

With the clamour of death in my ears

With no hope of returning victorious-

The ocean is too wide to swim.