r2vyln3rdioj14u-rld0ska where mountains meet the sea: Na Mairbh san Raoin

Na Mairbh san Raoin

(Geàrr-Luinneag)

Bu shunntach iad a’ dol thar raoin na strì
      Tha ’n sin ’nan laighe sìnt’ an sàmhchair bhuain,
Bu bhlath caoin-aiteal gràidh o mhaoin an cridh’
      Mus d’thaom dubh-dhìle ’bhàis gu shlugadh suas.
Le umhlachd dhaibh a thuit an teas a’ bhlàir,
      Gu socair, sàmhach, cladhaich uiagh rin taobh,
’S ’nan èideadh-cogaidh adhlaic iad san àit
      An d’thuit ri làr le bàs don nàmh ’nan glaodh.
Tog tosdach iad, dom b’euchdan òirdhearc cliù,
      ’S le mùirn is dàimh leig sìos an ceann san tàmh
Nach crìochnaich tìm troimh shìorraidheachd an iùil;
      Dùin suas an dachaigh ’s fàg an neòinean àillt
A’ seinn am beus san deothaig mhilis chiùin;
      ’S mar chuimhneachan tog crois air laoich a bha.

1917


Murchadh Moireach, from the anthology In Flanders Fields: Scottish Poetry and Prose of the First World War  (ed. Trevor Royle)



The Dead in the Field

Eagerly they went across the fields of strife
    Who lie there stretched in everlasting quiet;
Warm was the tender breath of love from their heart’s wealth
    Before death’s black deluge flooded and engulfed it.
In obeisance to those who fell in the battle’s heat,
    Beside them quietly, silently dig a grave
And in their battle attire there bury them
    Where they fell down, death to the enemy in their cry.
Silently lift them, who won fame for glorious deeds,
    And with fond regard lay down their heads in the rest
Time will not end through the eternity of their course;
    Close up the dwelling, and leave the lovely daisy
To sing their virtue in the sweet breath of wind;
    And raise a cross as a memorial over warriors gone.


Murdo Murray (trans. by Ian MacDonald), from the anthology In Flanders Fields: Scottish Poetry and Prose of the First World War  (ed. Trevor Royle)

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