“The
deer, time, liggs in Hallaig shaw.”
The
windae’s nailt an broddit up
whaur-throu
I saw the airt o the Wast
an ma luve
is at the burn o Hallaig
in her
bunnet o birk, an she
wis
aye
atween Inver
an Mulkie Linn
thare or
thareaboots roun Baile-Chuirn wey,
cled in a
birk, in a hazel,
in a young
rowan straucht an sclender.
In
Screapadal whaur ma ain fowk
wis
,
whaur
Norman
an Big Hector bade,
thair
dochters an thair sons is a wid
raxin up
alang the burnside.
Prood the
nicht the pine cocks
craws on the
heicht o Cnoc an Ra
straucht
thair spaulds in the muinlicht –
no thaim the
wids o ma hert.
I will byde
on the birken shaw
whit time it
raxes til the Cairn
whit lenth
the haill rig til its scadda
owre Ben na
Lice dis lour.
Gin it disna,
I’m awa doun til Hallaig
til the
sabbath o the deid
wi aa the
fowk in thrangity
ilk
generation that’s awa.
Thay’r aa
aye in Hallaig
Macleans an
MacLeods
aa thaim
thare frae MacGille Chaluim’s day:
the deid
haes been seen, leivin yit –
the menfowk
lyin on the gress
ilk gavel-en
o ilka hoose that’s been,
the lassies
a wid o birk trees,
straucht
thair spaulds, blate thair heids.
Atween the
Leac an Fearns
a braird o
moss saftens the hie road
an the
lassies in seilent bauns thegither
gangs til
Clachan as frae the first.
An comin
back frae Clachan,
frae
Suisnish an the land o the leivin –
ilkane young
an licht o fuit
wi nae
hertbrek in the story.
Burn o
Fearns lenth o sea-tint cladach
Sae clair in
the raivelment o the hills
the’r
nocht but thon congregation o the lassies
aye haudin
forrit at thair endless haik,
returnin til
Hallaig come the eenin
in the dumb
leivin gloamin
fuhlin the
stey braes
thair
lauchter in ma listenin lik a haar
thair
fairheid watterin ma hert’s een
gin comes
the mirk owre the kyles,
gin gangs
the sun the back o Dun Cana
a buhlet
frae luve’s gun will come threipin
an stote
thon deer that gangs stoiterin
snowkin at
the gressy larachs;
he will faa
in the wid, his ee jeelin;
whyle I’m
alive, ye winna finnd his bluid.
(set
owre frae Somhairle mac Gill-Eain)
John Law
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