Scots Poems From Scarecrow

Autumn IX Yestreen I heard a birdie sing Inbye a bonnie beech tree hedge As if it didnae ken nor care Autumn wis hidin in the sedge The daith o leaves is roon the neuk It peints them yalla, reid an broon An doon they'll drap like faain rain In waesome Autumn's dowie croon Sic cheenges cam tae great an sma First ae grey hair, a nippin knee The stert o auld age: clawin cleuks That herald yer mortality Autumn draws near, like cat wi moose It winna stop, nor else devaul A jeelin in a body's banes A cheenge, the turn frae warm tae caul Noo blawin in the win, dry leaves Like Simmer's ghaists, ethereal This is the Sizzen o the scythe The nichts draw in, a mournin pall Butter Butter is braw In millionaire's shortbreid In Polish plov In Turkish pilav In Iranian tahdig Butter is braw In Louisiana crawfish In hollandaise sauce Spreid ower sannies Pittin the virr intae sponges Clartit ower jaiket tatties It's bin aroon nine thoosan years The Norsemen beeriet butter wi their deid Butter is braw It sains sair crackit nails It swackens a skreichy hinge It slidders a ring aff ony swallin fingers Butter is braw Margarine's fur gypes The Fitdivyecaat The Fitdivyecaat is furry an fat He's a snoot like a conger eel His lugs are lang, his braith is strang He's the colour o cochineal On Monday he dines aff roastit wirms On Tuesday it's gollach soup On Wednesday it's snails an forkietails On Thursday it's puddock poop On Friday it's wyvers etten raw On Setterday, maggot cheese On the Sabbath it's fricassee o wasps Wi a salad o minced up bees The Fitdivyecaat has griffin's wings An whyles he weirs a wig An fin he's fou, weel, jist fur you He can daunce an Irish jig Letter tae Aiberdeen Dear Aiberdeen We lue tae hear classical pianie, violin, frae the Music Haa As weel as the bearded buskers on yer cassies, The scores frae the band in the Art Centre pit Or the Tivoli's musicians, ring sweetly in oor lugs Horns an sirens mell wi the skirl o gulls As at nicht in oor granite hames We coorie doon tae sleep In the derkness, the sea flings its lace-like waves Ower yer sheenin beach gaen ower tae win an tide Aneth the starnie Heivens Alang yer sides, the Dee & Don Haud ye atween their airms As they raxx ayont the lan Tae the Muckle Furth In the day, we wauk yer bywyes In oor multicultural toun Ye welcam aabody, nae bigots merch Alang oor Union Street, wi flags o hate This is jist a letter tae say we are prood Tae bide in this cauld Northern toun Waiters, scaffies, drivers, ice cream sellers Schulebairns, mithers, OAPs, Fowk frae the business quarter This toun wi its skinkle o siller The eident citizens that throng each teemin street Are blythe tae caa ye hame Say Bon Accord tae incomers we meet The Mystery o the Sheen Abyne. Nearhaun the Huntly Hotel A cheil's Heilan dress sheen Plunked on tap o a bin Has onybody spied a barfit Heilanman Hirplin ower the road in the wee oors? Wis he oot on the spree, Plain dottlit, or up tae some malarky? They widnae hae fittit my loon Or I micht hae taen them It maun hae bin a stoater o a pairty! The Lonach Gaitherin The Lonach Gaitherin, piobaireachd fills the air Buits dunt in girse, neives rug in Tug O'War At Bellabeg, Strathdon, the thoosans heeze An drams are taen bi watchers near an far Braw tartans flichter in the glents o sun The Heilanders hae trekked since echt am Sax mile, wi nips frae stops alang the wye Intae the ring they merch, the hale jing bang There, in the shadda o the Cairngorms Dizzens o heavies pech. They cowp the caber Haivin haimmers, humfin muckle stanes Whyle ithers in the hill race swyte and slaver Puckles o fowk are nebbin roon the staas Fur tasty treats an local crafts an art An puckles listen tae the pipin tunes As littlins swallae gulch, their moos aa clart The dauncin boords are fur the young an swack Strathspeys, Hornpipe, Seann Truibhas, the Ghillie Callum The Heilan Fling, the Tulloch Reel as weel The Irish jig, aa daunced wi virr an smeddum Fa's Best Dressed Heilander, amang the fowk? Nae gweed tae joodge amangst sic bobbydazzlers! An aabody gaes hame fin aathin's by Wi myndins o a Games Day's stammygasters Tae the Muckle Hoose Wyver Wyver wyver hairy fricht In ma chaumer neuk each nicht Fit the sorra dispatched ye Tae cam here an torture me? Muckle hoose wyver, lang shank The verra sicht o ye is rank I hae read hoose spiders bite Hornygollach imp o spite I maun takk ma buik an splat ye Intae smush I'll grind an flat ye There! Ye've made the paper black! Sic a sottar frae ae thwack! The Grumphie The grumphie daunced on a bed o banes As it supped the bree frae the midden It wadnae be catched, it lowpit free Wadnae dae fit it wis bidden Bit it wis taen at the hinnereyn Tae the killin hoose, ram stam Thon stoppit the spree o the wee grumphie Turned intae bacon an ham Sivven Yowes Sivven Yowes gaed ower the muir Ane wis swalled bi haar The secunt yowe fell brakk neck doon A crag, on a skiffin o glaur The third yowe hytered ontae a road A larry stowed her heid in A fourth yowe steppit intae the Dee An dreed her weird bi droonin A fifth yowe deed in giein birth Tae triplets, life-in-daith A sixth yowe cowpit on her back An smored, for wint o braith The sivventh yowe wis sheared an selt Tae a butcher's killin hoose An the ghaist o the yowe that wis swalled by haar Is the anely yowe still lowse Owersetts Scots owersett of Transition by Piedad Bonnet (Spanish Columbian) [Those days were beautiful.] But how sad the dusk that followed. - Friedrich Hölderlin I eesed tae be a loon an ma kingdom wis day. The warld cam tae me in lichtnin forks: Ma mither Mummlin an the sodjerlike fitsteps O ma faither gaun up the stairs. In ma chaumer, I tuik tent o a wolf an a lammie An the guff o camphor Raise till the gloamins becam rikk. Thon wir braw days. Stooshies as weel, an yetts, an barks. Hoosaeiver I wis a loon an on the brod Ma glaiss o milk glimmered like a caunle O a suddenty nicht fell ben ma broo An there I wis, a cheil, barfit in the mids o the path. Scots Owersett of the poem Homeland by Do Trung Quan (Vietnamese) Mither, fit is a hame lan? Ma dominie sez I maun lue it Mither, fit is a hame lan? That aabody misses sae muckle Hame lan is far the sweet carambola growes Far ye sclimm tae pu fruit ilkie day Hame lan is the auld path tae schule Far ye rin hame chasin yalla butterflees Hame lan is far a blue-green kite is fleein Blythe abune the young on girssy parks Hame is far a wee ferry floats Saftly rowin in hame river watters Hame lan is a wee bamboo brig Wi mither in her pyntit palm-leaf hat It's perfumed ley flooers, the sweet girse o Vietnam Wauchtin tae sleep in the lang simmer nichts Hame lan is warm, luein airms Lyin asleep ben the nicht's rain Far areca flooers skitter on the veranda fleer Hame lan is a swatch o pumpkin flooers An a violet Malabar spinach hedge It's the reid on a fence o Hibiscus veins An the brawness o a pure fite lotus Aabody has anely ae hame lan Jist as aabody has anely ae mither Hame lan, that aabody misses sairly Scots Owersett of Taps at a Window on an Evening by Batsheva Dori-Carlier (Hebrew) At the airt left teem for a guest I set an ashet, a teem ashet, a fork, a knife An I ken he winna bide lang. The deid arenae kent fur enjoyin fite rice an lentils. As iver, he'd raither read Nagib Mahfouz's Luve in the Rain Which he bocht years syne in the Auld Toun in paperback. Myndins are gaithered at the brod like nourishin maet: The braid hauns o ma faither grip ma haun an ma sister's haun, Grip the string o beads, the pipe, the buiks, Wi thon same douce restraint Fur brukken ferlies. Like rain, ma faither cam back frae the ither side. Scots Owersett of Jerusalem Is Full of Used Jews by Yehuda Amichai (Hebrew) Jerusalem is stappit wi worn oot Jews, weariet bi history Jews secunt haun, slichtly bladdit, at chaip prices. An the ee raxes tae Zion aywis. An aa the een O the leevin an the deid are crackit like eggs On the rim o the bowl, tae makk the toun Puff up rich an creashie. Jerusalem is stappit wi trauchelt Jews, Aywis proddit on again fur holidays, fur memorial days, Like circus bears dauncin on achin shanks. Fit dis Jerusalem nott? It disnae nott a mayor, It notts a ringmaister, wheep in haun Fa can tame prophicees, train prophets tae ride Aroon an aroon in a cercle, teach its stanes tae line up In a bauld, risky sett oot fur the gran finale. Later they'll lowp back doon again Tae the soun o applause an wars. An the ee raxes tae Zion, an greets Scots Owersett of A Dog After Love by Yehuda Amichai (Hebrew) Efter ye left me I lat a dug smell at Ma breist an ma wyme. I lat yer guff fill its snoot An set aff tae fin ye. I hope it'll teir the Baas o yer luver an bite aff his todger Or at least Will bring me yer hose atween his teeth. Scots Owersett of Some Like Poetry: Wislawa Szymborska (Polish) Puckles - Sae nae aa. Nae even maist o them aa bit the minority. Nae coontin schules, far ye hae tae, An the poets thirsels, There micht be twa fowk per thoosan. Like - bit ae body as weel likes chucken soup wi noodles, Ane likes compliments an the colour blae, Ane likes an auld scarf, Ane likes haein the upper haun, Ane likes straiking a tyke. Poetry - Bit fit is poetry? Mony shakky repons Hae bin gien tae this speirin. Bit I dinna ken, I dinna ken an haud ontae it Like tae a railin that acts as a crutch. Scots Owersett of Encounter by Czeslaw Milosz (Polish) We wir ridin ben frozen parks in a wagon at daybrakk. A reid wing raise in the derkness. An o a suddenty a bawd ran ower the road. Ane o us pyntit tae it wi his haun Thon wis langsyne. Noo neither o them is leevin, Nae the bawd, nur the cheil fa pyntit. O ma luve, far are they, far are they gaun The glisk o a haun, whoosh o meevement, wheesh o stanes. I speir nae ooto sorra, bit in winner. Owersett of Building the Barricade by Anna Swir (Polish) We were feart, biggin the barricade unner fire. The bar cheil, the jeweller's luver, the barber, aa o us fearties. The servin quine drapt tae the grun ruggin a pavement stane, an we wir verra feart, aa o us fearties- the scaffie, the staahauder, the auld body. The druggist drapt tae the grun, ruggin the lavvie yett an we wir even mair feart, the smuggler-deem, the dressmakker, the taxi driver, aa o us fearties. The loon frae the reform schule founert humfin a sanbag, sae we wir really feart. Altho naebody gart us, we did bigg the barricade unner fire. Scots Owersett o Optimistic Man by Nazim Hikmet (Turkish) as a bairn he niver rugged the wings aff flees he cans didnae tie tin cans tae catties' tails or snib hornygollachs in spunk boxes or flatten emerteens hames he grew up an aa thon things wir dane tae him I wis at his bedside fin he deed he said read me a poem aboot the sun an the sea aboot nuclear reactors an satellites aboot the greatness o humanity Scots Owersett of History of the Night Jorge Luis Borges (Spanish) Throwoot the rin o the generations cheils vrocht the nicht. At first she wis blinn-ness; thorns scrattin nyaakit feet, fear o wolves. We'll niver ken fa vrocht the wird fur the whylie o shadda atween the twa gloamins; we'll niver ken fan it cam tae mean the starnie oors. Ithers vrocht the myth. They made her the mither o the unmeevin Fates that makk oor weird, they killed blaik yowes tae her, an the cock fa craas his ain daith. The Chaldeans set oot twalve hooses tae her, tae Zeno, umpteen wirds. She tuik her makk frae Latin hexameters an the fleg o Pascal. Luis de Leon saw in her the hamelan o his hurtin soul. Noo we feel her tae be inexhaustible like an auncient wine an naebody can luik on her wioot vertigo an time his chairged her wi bein aybydan. An tae think that she widnae exist bar fur thon dweeble instruments, the een. Scots Owersett o When I Die I Want Your Hands On My Eyes Pablo Neruda (Spanish) Fin I dee I wint yer hauns on ma een: I wint the licht an the wheat o yer lued hauns tae pass their freshness ower me ae mair time tae feel the smeethness that cheenged ma weird I wint ye tae live while I wyte fur ye, asleep, I wint yer lugs tae gae on hearin the win, fur ye tae smell the sea that we lued thegether an fur ye tae gae on waukin the san far we wauked. I wint fur fit I lue tae gae on leevin an as fur ye I lued ye an sang ye abune aathin fur thon, gae on flooerin, flooery ane, sae that ye reach aa that ma luve orders fur ye sae that ma shadda passes throwe yer hair, sae that they ken by this the rizzon fur ma sang. The Queen's Ither Subjects Aged fower her faither gaed her a wee shelt A Shetland breet caad Peggy, that she lued An rode weel bi the time that she wis sax Fur luve o breets suited her royal mood Richt tae her ninth decade she rode her shelts An bred braw racin winners in her care Mair nur a thoosan prizes graced her stable Frae thoroughbreds reared in her keepin there A rowth o corgis yappit at her feet Fed fat on rubbit frae the Royal estates Aince caad ‘the meevin carpet' at her back Aywis the nicest deinties on their plates Her racin doos wir kept at Sandringham Twa hunner birds in thon laft rest The Royal doos weir cyphers roon their shanks Their boxies stampit wi the Royal crest In her lang life the Queen ained unca breets Twa sloths, a puckle jaguars as weel Twa beavers, a great jumbo, sivven year auld Tae pass tae London Zoo fur bield an meal Aa whales in British Watters the queen ained The fishes royal, sturgeon, porpoise tae An dolphins. Swans that sweem the river Thames Wir hers tae coont upon Swan Uppin day Her Scottish hame, Balmoral, hooses bats That bide inbye the monarch's castle haa She helped the fitmen catch them in a net An free them frae inbye the biggin's waa Fit makk o body disnae like a breet? A cat, a dug, a doo, a shelt, a wyver? The Royal hives hae learned o their loss The dowie news, they've tint their queen foriver The Beggars' Benison & Wig Club The genteel cheils in Ainster, Fife ‘May prick nor purse ne'er fail ye' Tae the solitary act held true Pledged wi a glaiss o fusky Five hunner strang the memmership Watched posin nyaaakit leddies An ither sic-like orra ploys Douce quinies wioot plaidies The wig they kept, frae Charles the King Thon selfsame Merry Monarch Wir snippins frae his doxies' pyubes Wid makk a guid man vomit Oh Ainster is a bonnie place Bit in thon hyne back days The pliskies that wir cairriet on Wid ony deil amaze