Scots Poems From Carpe Diem

Fower Poems: Efter James Robertson's Stories in his buik 365 Jack the Suitor Aince Jack set aff tae fin a wife Tae cook, tae spin, tae clean He saw a wyver wyve a a wab An tuik her hame richt sune His mither quickly telt her son She wouldnae dae ava She couldnae cuik, she couldnae clean She turned his luve awa Neist day Jack tae the hen wife gaed An brocht a chukken hame Each day he hoped she'd lay an egg Fin she wis aa his ain His mither cried ‘Ye glekit stirk She winna keep ye hett Ye need a wife that's warm in bed Tae bosie ye, ma pet.' Neist day Jack traivelled up the glen An stole a shepherd's yowe Nae suner did he gain the hoose The polis reached the howe Bin syne his mither gart them wyte As she explained the fack ‘He thocht thon yowe wid makk a wife Noo ye can takk her back! He's better nae tae wad ava I'll see til't, ' said his mither ‘Ae eejit in the warld's eneuch He maunna breed anither' Jack an the Treisur Nearhaun Jack's clachan wis a cave Wis treisur hid inside it? Ae day, airmed wi a baa o oo An caunle, he explored it He drapped a threid o oo ahin Tae shaw his fitsteps back An eftir miles o wannerin Three tunnels split the track At ilkie tunnel's mou there sat A baa o worsit thonner An Jack explored aa three, bit och He fand nae pick o treisur Disjaskit, syne, he trauchled hame Nae gowd or jewels sae cheerie Anely fower baas o scratty oo Hamecamin, dreich an wearie His mither wis delichtit tho ‘Thon oo will makk a ganzie An mebbe wi eneuch left ower For mochles fur yer granny! ' The Cattie o Pitfodles There wis an auld laird bedd alane A fly, ill faschent body He kept a cat fur company An a fusky keg for toddy Noo thon wis a sleekit, nesty cat Fa kept his secrets hid For cats hae trysts that naebody sees Wi the Deil thon cat wis sib At nicht the lairdie saw his cat Alang the Clash gae lowpin A swatch o boggy peaty grun Near Twa Mile Cross, twis breengin The meen wis heich ower Brig o Dee Fin hame the cat cam mincing ‘I saw yer ploys' her maister quo ‘Fit ill tricks wir ye daein? ' ‘Ye saw me aince…bit ne'r again, ' Quo she, baith coorse an stoot An lowpit at her maister's heid An tore his thrapple oot Michael Scott Michael Scott wis a warlock Ane o Auld Horny's tribe Alexander king o aa the Scots Summoned him tae his side ‘O ye maun gyang tae Paris They'll hear frae yer ain lips That their French king maun ban his men Frae plunderin oor Scottish ships' The French king wis fu vauntie He turned his heid awa ‘I'll haud nae spikk wi ye Scotsman Yer kintra's puir an sma' The warlock he wis angered Raise in his stirrups syne Frae the back o his michty stallion, roared ‘Ye'll see fit pouer is mine! Ma steed'll stamp it's hoof three times Ye'll ken fit pouer I bring! ' The first knell o the stallion's fit Gart aa French bells tae ring The neist chap o the stallion's hoof Three touers o the castle fell ‘Wyte! 'cried the French king, horrifeed ‘Hae ye opened the yetts o Hell? ' ‘Nae mair we'll plunder yer Scottish ships Or reive yer Scottish gowd! ' Wi a crack o thunner an lichtenin flash In the mids o a gurly cloud The warlock tuik his leave o France An nae man barred his leavin French pirates tint their livelihood An the French king stopped their reivin A Wee Poem fur Grief Ma sleep is lichtit bi myndins Meetin the deid in dwams The sun flegs them back tae the mools I refuse tae rrese oot the abyss Ma son, the hinmaist mornin I met ye I didnae ken within seeven days Ye'd staun in the roll caa o the deid I hope ye like the Yuletide wreath I gaed ye Time his pykit the banes o murnin clean I wid wheep ma wecht in wildcats Tae resurrect ye, reinvent yer life Flicherty ghaist, I aften glisk ye briefly, hynie aff Amangst fowk passin, swippert derk an lued Grief canna rowe the oceans back Or stop the sun frae risin It canna seed the desert san Or stop the leed frae deein Scots Owersetts Fit things are caad; bi Erich Fried (1921-1988) Foo wir ye nae like the Trung Quan tree? A quine speirs Thon means Her luver is ane o them brunt The leaves o the Trung Quan tree dinna catch fire Like bamboo poles or human skin Lazy Tyke Is the nemme fur an iron cross Atween aerial bomb an dum-dum bullet Safety Detonator Is a fermer tied tae a towe An herdit aheid ower a minefield Tug o war Is ruggin a prisoner On a towe Ahin a tank Ben a clachan Bi wye o warnin Bunnle Is a corp In a pleatit bass Hairst A rowe o bunnles In a park Some ferlies mean as muckle As the mood o A heid bummer An some mean as little As the life o A haunfu o kintrafowk, faither, mither, three bairns Pacifeein a clachan Means nae anely beheidin Fermers fa wir suspeck or clyped on Pacifeein likewye means Cutting oot their liver An haivin it intae the air The liver's the hame o courage Weirin blaik jaikets an breeks Means Bein a fermer Bein killt Means eftirwirds Haein bin a Viercong Ochone, the Lums bi Nelly Sachs (1891-1970) Ochone the lums! Ochone the evidently vrocht hames o daith Fin Israel's corp wauchtit like rikk Throw the air- Wis walcamed bi a starnie, a lum sweeper A starnie that burned blaik Or wis't a ray o sun? Ochone the lums! Freedom airt fur Job an Jeremiah's stoor Fa vrocht ye an pit stane upon stane The road fur refugees o rikk? Ochone the hames o daith Doucely appyntit Fur the Host fa eased tae be a guest- O ye fingers Layin the portal Like a knife atween life an daith- Ochone ye lums, O ye fingers An Israel's corp as rikk throw the air! Peace, Horror: bi Miklós Radnóti (1909-1944) As I steppit ooto the yett it wis 10 o'clock A baker on a sheeny wheel birled by, he sang Abune, a plane wis birrin, sun sheened,10 o'clock Ma auntie fa deed I myndit on her, an aa the sowels I'd lued, fa lived nae mair, wir fleein owerheid Darkly, a heeze o seelent deed flee by abune An o a suddenty, a shadda drappit alang the waa In seelence, morning devalued, it wis 10 o'clock Peace hung alang the street, a touch o grue as weel Draft o a Reparations Agreement bi Dan Pagis (1930-1986) Aa richt cheils fa skreich blue murder as aywis Miracle-makkers Quaet! Paragraph eftir paragraph The skirl back intae the thrapple The gowd teeth back intae the gums The terror The rikk back tae the tin, an farrer on inbye Back tae the marra o the banes An already ye'll be happit wi skin an sinews an ye'll live Luik, ye'll hae yer lives back Dowp in the hoose, read the evenin paper Here ye are. Naethin is ower late As tae the yalla starnie: It'll be rived frae yer breast Straicht aff An will emigrate Tae the lift Massacre o the Loons bi Tadeusz Rózewicz (1921- 2014) The bairns cry ‘Mam! Bit I hae bin gweed! It's derk inbye! Derk! ' See them. They are gaunt ae the boddom See the wee feeties They are gaunt ae the boddom. D'ye see Thon prent O wee feeties here an thonner Pooches wechtit Wi towe an stanes An wee shelts vrocht o wire A muckle plain steeked Like a shape o geometry An a tree o blaik rikk An upricht Deid tree An nae starnie at its croon Bairnhood bi Edith Brück (1932-) Yer milk wis already pysoned By derk thochts o the yet tae cam Yer trauchled airms Gied me nae bield Yer een wir fu o greetin Yer hairt duntit in fricht Yer mou opened anely tae pray Or tae ban me, the hinmaist born, sikkin yer help Frae humankind that attackit in the derk Frae tykes eekit on by seelent gypes o maisters Frae the spis o bairns fed on lees Frae eejits lat lowse bi faimlies Fa keepit them in affront an shynes Sae they could takk things oot on Jews At the synagogue yett Night in the Unnertakkers In the unnertakkers Eftir the forensic team feenished their bluidy wirk Ye are left alane in the derk Aneth the kist lid Ye lie stiff as a block o ice Naebody straiked yer hair in a last ferweel Ye are ayont rain, sunsheen an kisses The kist is a slammed yett Nane will fusper in yer lug Nae visa will lat me veesit Whyles I dream ye back In yer bairn claes Afore the days o poppies an deid eyns Nicht in the Unnertakkers In the unnertakkers Eftir the forensic team feenished their bluidy wirk Ye are left alane in the derk Aneth the kist lid Ye lie stiff as a block o ice Naebody straiked yer hair in a last ferweel Ye are ayont rain, sunsheen an kisses The kist is a slammed yett Nane will fusper in yer lug Nae visa will lat me veesit Whyles I dream ye back In yer bairn claes Afore the days o poppies an deid eyns The Tarland Burn Twal kilometres it rins doon Frae fertile knowes tae Tarlan toun The wee waves o the Tarlan Burn Makk music at each watery turn The Otter Brig it crosses ower The burn far waukers takk a tour Bi Coull, the burn mids sun an snaas It guairds the ruined castle waas Tae draw the seepins frae the grun A straicht canal it wis begun Fin queen Victoria wis queen Nae thocht o floodin lang yestreen Forestry, livestock, game birds, hoosin Brocht waste, pollution bi misusin Noo fermers, scientists aa try Tae keep the burn frae gaun agley Sae that thon bonnie burn will be A treisur fur posterity Lang Sandy (The Heron) Lang Sandy stauns on ae shilpit shank The ither's tucked unner a feather The rain poors ower Lang Sandy's heid Bit he disnae heed the weather He stauns like a statue, his lang sherp beak Like a sword stukken ontae his face Till a daft wee bandy sweems alang Seein naethin amiss in the place Plunk! He's liftit an tossed up heich Snap! Doon Lang Sandy's thrapple An thon's aa the funeral richts he gets Lang Sandy's wyme's his chapel In the Playgrun Walker Road Primary School 1897-2021: Fit like aabody, fit like aa body Gled that ye are here Fit like aabody, fit like aa body Gled that ye are here Aye aye aye aye aye Gled that ye are here Aye aye aye aye aye Gled that ye are here In the playgrun lang ago Fin Victoria wis the Queen Pupils wir trawl fishers' bairns Torry Scots in Aiberdeen Twa Warld wars brocht wins o cheenge Ile rigs brocht a hurricane Tradition stude on shoogily pegs Naething iver bides the same Noo the warld cams rushin in In the playgrun, hear the spikk Romanian, Yoruba, Thai Polish, Russian, Arabic Fit like aabody, fit like aa body Gled that ye are here Fit like aabody, fit like aa body Gled that ye are here Aye aye aye aye aye Gled that ye are here Aye aye aye aye aye Gled that ye are here In the Classie: Mile End Primary: Additional Support Needs Units Fit like aabody, fit like aa body Gled that ye are here Fit like aabody, fit like aa body Gled that ye are here Aye aye aye aye aye Gled that ye are here Aye aye aye aye aye Gled that ye are here There are ither weys tae spikk Makaton an Singin Hauns Throwe the senses, bring the warld Open up a Wonderlan In the sensory gairden, free In the wildlife gairden, rinnin Gated areas, flooer an tree Braw tae see new life, beginning Fit like aabody, fit like aa body Gled that ye are here Fit like aabody, fit like aa body Gled that ye are here Aye aye aye aye aye Gled that ye are here Aye aye aye aye aye Gled that ye are here The Twa Brigs Bussie Ching: Gray's School of Art Students, clarty claes an peint, Humfin canvases an pieces Bletherin intae a ringin phones Fusslin new music releases Ching: RGU Omni Nunc Arte Magistra Hong Kong, Camaroon Bahrein China, India, Botswana Hallelujah! Ranjit! Wayne! Ching: Asda, Brig o Dee OAPs wi eerins wechtit Hirplin, gammie leggit, cauld Vive the bus that's free tae enter Ae wee perk o bein auld Ching: Trinity Haa Here's Trade Haa o Aiberdeen Ghaists fa focht at Reid Harlaw Saved the toun frae Gael invaders Tradesmen skeelie, stinch an braw Ching: Music Haa Audience, aa shapes an sizes Steppin oot, throw aff their cares Halflins, auld yins, yin an yang Past the beggar at the stairs Ching: Mither Kirk/McDonalds Ae side o the street, the deid The ither side, far faimlies feed Baps an graveyaird interweavins Seagulls fecht ower aabody's leavins Ching: Toun Hoose/Justice Coort &Tolbooth See the lawyers, wigs an gouns The coort's fur gallus quines & loons Aa the ootlins, drunken orrals Argyin in boozy quarrels Ching: Mercat Cross an Castlegate Gordon Heilanders stun guaird Unicorn pynts tae the stars Lichts the revellers stottin oot O cheerie howfs an couthie bars Ching: Pittodrie Pittodrie! Fitbaa Goals an singin Reid scarfs wyvin Lauchin, sweirin Ching: Auncient Univarsity Croon o Kings far scholars gaither Elphinstane's lang trodden girse Waddings, graduations, blether Don & doctor, teacher, nurse Ching: Seaton Beach Seaton seals an skyscrapers Seagulls, sea, win ferms an ships Boaties ridin oot at anchor Storms an winter throw here rips Ching: Balgownie/Danestone By Balgownie tae the Don Far the lan gaes knippin on Tae the kintra's farms an braes Ching: sae eyns oor city's praise Waulkmill Road, Tarland Sax thoosan years o pottery shards Dug frae the grun alang the wye Cremated banes, a cauldron, brooch A Neolithic pit forbye Souterrains, gamin pieces, rings Stane circle ryped fur ferm biggins Wee bitties o the deid langsyne Howked up bi cannie local diggins A blithesome wauk for simmer nichts Fin birdies cheep in ilkie tree An rubbits howk in Drummy's wid An sheughs wi flooers brier fragrantly Aince Waulkmill wis a drover's road Cattle an shelts gaed steerin ower Drappin their sharn ower ruts an stanes Bravin win, sna an sleety shower An dae thon ghaists still takk thon path Makkin fur marts in Suddron lans Did fusky smugglers gyang thon gait Or lang deid luvers, haudin hauns Fit Time is't Pee the bed clock fit time is't noo? Time tae fleg the Jersey coo? Time tae shave the werewolf's legs? Time tae swat the nesty glegs? Pee the bed clock fit time is't noo? Twa times twinty in Peru! Yokie Oxters There wis a futterat bed in Birse It liked tae daunce the polkie Especially fin midgies heezed An made its oxters yokie The Wee Yowie There wis a wee yowie Fa mairriet a hen Their bairnies gaed baa As they traivelled the ben They'd feathers aa ower Bar a big wooly heid An they dined on Rice Krispies An hett buttered breid Speirins Foo dae fowk wauik forrit? Foo's the warld flat? Foo dae stars cam oot at nicht? Fa made a rat a rat? Foo dis rain faa doon, nae up? Noo can ye tell me that? Scots Owersett of Horace's Odes The Carpe Diem Ode 1.11 Dinna speir, Leuconoë, the forbidden speirin, foo lang The gods hae gien tae ye an tae me: dinna jelouse Spaewives ken. Better tae takk fit's camin, Whether Jupiter will gie us mair winters, or this that noo Trauchles the Etruscan sea as it dunts on the cliffs Is the hinmaist. Be wyce: strain the wine: in a wee life, Takk nae lang luiks aheid. As we spikk, time nips us An rins: grip this day: save nae hopes fur the morn A Lament 1.24 Foo shall we haud in or leemit oor wae, sae dear Wis this cheil? Teach me a daith lament, Melpomenë, gien bi yer Faither wi a clear Voyce an the lyre's music. Sae the sleep that laists foraye noo haps Quintilius. Honour, an unbrukken Trust The sister o Justice, an Truith fa wauks nyaakit, Fan shall they iver finn his equal? He dees murned bi mony guid cheils, Bit bi nae cheil mair deeply, Vergil, than yersel. Eeseless devotion tae prig the gods fur Quintilius, He wisnae lent on thon terms. Fit guid wid it dae tae play the lyre mair doucely Than Thracian Orpheus, tae fas music the trees reponed? Wid the bluid cam back tae his thin ghaist, Fa Mercury aince an fur aa (he doesnae takk weel tae priggin tae lowse the yetts) Wi his gurly staff his gaithered tae the heeze o shades? It's hard: bit patience makks thon maitters lichter That we hae nae pouer tae cheenge. The Cleopatra Ode 1.37 Noo fur a boozing splairge, noo fur a lowse-fitted Daunce, noo is the time tae pye Oor debt tae the gods, ma friens, An spreid a bumbazin feast. Afore the day, tae bring oot Caecuban wine frae Faimily storechaumers wis wrang, while the gyte Queen wis still plottin wi her Peely wally eunuchs, her bourach o perverts, Tae sen the Capitol tae crockanation an beery The empire: wud wir her dwaums o daein Fitiver she winted, the best Luck wIs her drink. She sobered up Fin her ships wir bleezin, scarce ane unskaithed, An widdendremes sooklit on Egypt's wine Wir cured bi Caesar wi the facks O fleg, his navy near as she fled Frae Italy, like a hawk gaun efter A douce doo, or a faist hunter trackin A bawd ower sna-happit parks In Thessaly: chynes awyted this Damnt monster. Bit a heroine's daith Wis her aim: she shawed nae wummanly chitters At the sicht o a sword, an her Faist-sailin fleet socht nae secret herbours. Her smeddum wis great: she luikit on her connached Palace, a smile yet on her face, an bauldly Played wi pysonous asps, Her flesh drinkin their wersh stang, Sae heichly she daured, her harns set on her daith. Nae fur her the fae's ship, the croonless Stravaig, her pairt in the gran Parade o Triumph: she wis nae dweeble wumman. 2.3 Haud this in thocht: a steidy heid on a steep Pathie; the same hauds true fin the gaein is guid: Dinna lat blytheness gae tae yer heid, Frien Dellius, fur ye maun dee someday, Whether ye spen aa yer time in wae, Or keep yersel blythe on festive days Raxxed oot on the girse alane Wi a joog o yer best Falernian wine. Foo dae the touerin pine an fite poplar Lue tae wyve shady walcam bi interwyvin their Branches? Foo dae the breengin watters Hash on agin the twinin river? Tell them tae bring the wines an the perfumes an Swete rose flooers that live sic a wee whylie, Here, fin it still is alloued bi luck an Youth, an the derk threids o the three Sisters. Ye will leave the parks ye bocht an yer hame An yer kintra hame washed bi the tawny Tiber, Ye'll leave, an intae the hauns o An heir will gae the siller ye biggit sae heich. Rich, an descendit frae auncient Inachus, Or puir an frae the laighest class, dauchlin Oot in the open, it's aa ane: A giftie tae Daith, fa disnae greet. Aa o us are bein herdit thonner, fur aa Lots are haived in an urn: suner, eftir, Oot theyll cam an buik oor passage On the boatie fur iverlaistin exile. Tae the Goddess Diana Vergin protectress o the ben an the widlan, Fa, caaed on three times, hears young quines, in jizzen bed Throw thon stangs, an saves them frae deein, O Triple vrocht goddess, May it be yers, this pine-tree abune ma ferm, Sae that I micht, blythely, ben passin years, Offer it the bluid o a boar, that's ettlin Its first sidelang stobs.