The Dragon's Vertebrae (19 Scots Poems)

1.Carousel A birlin meal is ordnar in Beijing The carousel is stapped wi bowls o rice A chef, gouned like a surgeon, fully masked Haggers a Peking dyeuk, wi mainners, nice A muckle carp lies sprauchled on the brods Its heid, tail, fins left on for aa tae see I dinna like its twa unchancy een The nesty wye it seems tae glower at me Its wyme is fu o banes...a booby trap Tae cleuk yer thrapple. An fit's even waur Its open moo seems ettlin tae spik Alang the lines o 'Eat me gin ye daur.' The charnel-hoose o breets, in butcher's yairds Is miles awa frae superstore an plate I'll chaw awa at meat dressed frae the fridge I canna swallae killin fin it's hett 2.The Muckle Waa o Cheena at the Mutianyu section The Chinese waa is big an braa Tholes win an snaa, an thon is aa I can recaa. Some heid-the-baa Thocht we cud try an wauk it aa I'm nae sae feel as try...Na, na I'd bite aff mair than I cud chaa Thon dyke far Heiven's breezes blaa I photied it, syne cried `ta ta' 3.Massage Six towrists at a time they takk Tae dunt an rummle, knead an shakk The creashie faulds o furreign flesh An, like pink littlins in a crèche We sigh an turn fin telt, as they Smeeth aff the runkles o the day Syne, suppin luewarm, yalla tea Pye peanuts fur tranquility 7.Lang-Shanks In the Muslim merket o X'ian A cricket in a teenie wicker cage Canna neither turn nor lowp Let alane growe It rubs its shanks thegither Tryin tae kinnle a lowe 8.Owersetts o English translations o Three Chinese Poets Autumn Nichtfaa at my Airt in the Knowes: Wang Wei (Buddhist,701-762) In the teem Bens, efter new-faan rain A glisk o Faa comes wi the air o gloamin The meen is bricht an glimmers atween the pines Abeen the steens the sping-fed burn rins caller. Bamboos reeshle: washerwives gyang hame. Lotuses steer: fishin boats meeve alang. Bi its ain will, the scent o Spring has gaen. Bit ye, o best o friens, of course maun bide. Speirin an Makkin Repon in the Bens: Li Bai(Taoist,701-761) They speir foo I choose tae bide in the green Bens My hairt is calm. I smile, mak nae repon; Peach blossoms float awa, leave nocht ahin¬ There is nae ither yird nur lift than thon. Thochts on Traivellin at Nicht: (Confucian scholar, Du Fu: 712-770) Licht breeze on the fine girse. I staun alane at the mast. Starnies lean on the skelp o braid flat yird Meen shogs in the muckle river's spate Letters hae brocht nae fame. Office? Ower auld tae win. Driftin, fit am I like? A gull atween yird an Heivens. Meenlicht Nicht: (Confucian scholar, Du Fu: 712-770) In Fuzhou, hyne awa, my wife is watchin The meen aleen this nicht, my harns are fu Wi sorra for my bairns, fa canna think 0 me here in Changan; they're ower wee still. Her cloud-saft hair is weet wi scentit mist In the clear Licht her fite airms ken the chill. Fan will we feel the meenlicht dry oor tears, Leanin thegither on oor windae-sill? 9.The Chorer A Castlegate seagull caa'd Sam As a treat, thinks Doritos are gran Fin he's wintin a snack He jist hi-jacks a pack Fin he fancies a bittie o scran He plaps in the shop for the snatch And he by-passes queues wi his catch I've met him masel, and ye niver could tell By his luiks he's a crisp-liftin vratch Oh, gull that comes in frae the haar The Arts Centre could help ye gae far Top bill for a week, wi yer flair an yer beak In Bugsy Malone, as the Star 10.The Thorn Buss The Brus lies in Dunfermine kirk Rowed in claith o gowd Lord Elgin's merble at his heid A King frae tap tae shroud Ootbye, a wizened thorn buss Leans ower an unmarked grave The lass that bore the Wallace Lies forgotten wi the lave The breist-milk o the mither wolf Gaed Rome its virr an pouer The seedbed o Scots liberty Lies hummle in thon stoor The Brus lies in Dunfermline kirk Braw kist wi braiss plate tapped The thorn buss stauns ower Freedom's dam Her heid's wi green girse happed 12.A Welcome to Hector Anderson: Born May 10th 2007 Welcome tae ye bonnie loon Born in Mey, the month o bloom In the makkin o yer tune Huntly an Kincraigie Hector may yer life may lang Niver scarce o luv an sang Sweet's the wells frae far ye sprang Tarlan Burn an Bogie Stinch, the meanin o yer name Soople hauns an soople frame Noo ye've made a hoose a hame Blythesome, fiddlers' laddie Like Strathbogie's staunin steens Ye'll hae smeddum in yer beens Chikks as reid's the Simmer geans Roon Cromar an Drummy Fitna road yer fit may takk Peace an joy be in yer pack May ye niver fortune lack Far the wins may blaw ye Here's yer health! Swack may ye grow Like the rosit on the bowe May yer tribbles as be fyew Andersons' new babbie! 13.The Nicolaisen Sang: tune: Geordie Weir For Professor Wilhelm Nicolaisen I'm a weel-kent professor and Wilhelm's ma name Research intae folklore an place is ma game I can spikk aboot petroglyphs, Ogham an Picts Ethnology, culture, an onomastics I've faithered fower dothers, I've got strang DNA The quines they aa bide in Americay There's three generations, as this wis my plan Tae breed Nicolaisens an widen the clan My office is nae in a cubbyhole flair I'm on the 9th storey, on a penthoose stair As I screive up treatises at my windae sill A seagull is dichtin its dowp wi its bill I've traivelled the warld like a Romany cheil Frae Tubinham, Glesga, Binghamton as weel Ohio an Aarhus, an Embro I've seen I'm a kenspeckle figure in Auld Aiberdeen. In oral traditions there's fyew that can beat Me in flushin fowk narratives ooto the street Afore ye can say 'Ecclefechen' ye'll see Me plantin its reets in a new glossary The year I wis born Linbergh flew tae Paree Show Boat wis staged at a Broadway soiree There wis earthquakes, an floods an a solar eclipse There wis veesits frae aliens an sinkin o ships Urban myths I hae read, fegs ma study is stooked Wi tales aboot Santas in lums, fa were cooked An monkey-meat sannies they eat in the Hague An poodles exploding in fowks' microwaves Syne there's thon polar beastie, fa eats, sheets an leaves Alligators doon sewers, New Yorkers believes Are pets flushed doon lavvies...tho here's ane that's real The best urban myth is that research pyes weel I'm a weel-kent professor and Wilhelm's ma name Research intae folklore an place is ma game Ohio an Aarhus, an Embro I've seen I'm a kenspeckle figure in Auld Aiberdeen. 14.Wells o Aiberdeen: for Lys Wyness The Hardgate, the Well o Spa, the Castlegate, the Corbie St Mary's Well, the Angel Well, served common fowk an lairdly The Thieves Brig, the Dyer's Well, stude lang in Aiberdeen The Carden and the Fidler's Well, brocht watter sweet and clean The Well spring bi Netherton, the Well o Steenywid, St Fittick's Well, the Lady's Well- tae droothy fowk, foo guid! Auld Wells at Kittybrewster, Fountainhaa, the Chanonry The Firhill, the Quaker Well, St. John's, the Chaplaincy St. Mary's Chapel, Fettes' Well, the Tony battery They slaiked the drooth o shelt an man ower mony's the century. The Bishop's Palace Well wis braa, wi doocots ower at Seaton The Well that served the Haimmermen hid waters cweel and weetin The Crew Well, the Stroup Well, the Struick's cheery chink John Philip's Well, the Kirkie's Well...aa caller springs tae drink! Noo watter's piped tae ilkie hame, nae labour nott ava Bit gin ye staun aside oor Wells, fa's paths hae dwined awa.... Ye'll mebbe hear the saftest sooch...a thochtie...naethin mair 0 lang-deid Aiberdonians come tae draw their watter there 15.Joseph's Carol Hymn Tune: Oh Come o Come Immanuel. For Sheila Wheeler Caesar sent sodjers roon wi a decree That aa maun register. Frae Galilee I traivelled wi ma wife by ma side Near tae her time a young an tender bride Nae scholar, I, frae Nazareth I cam, A jyner o the tribe o Abraham The road wis roch. Nae chaumer at the inn The toon o Bethlehem a stoorie din The bairnie in her wame, like a thorn O flesh an bluid impatient tae be born. The anely neuk, a yirdy cattle shed Tae lay her doon upon the jizzen bed Sae prood wis I tae showd my infant bairn His perfect heid lay peacefu on my airm The cuddy an the kyes' company The anely ithers yonner bit we three Masel, my Mary, oor wee family, wi Jesus, a domestic trinity. Bit shepherds socht this littlin Mary bore Fa vowed that Angels led them tae the door An three wyce Kings frae hyne in the East Booed doon wi reverence in ilkie briest Gowd, incense, myrrh, sic precious gifts they brocht Nae jyner's son has iver kent nor socht Nae scholar, I. Frae Nazareth I cam A jyner o the tribe o Abraham I'll carve ye simple gear frae a tree Grown frae the hummle stoor o Galilee Fin Angels flap their gowden wings an sing I plane the wid an gar the haimmer swing Noo Mary sleeps bit wide awak I stare An ordnar man wi a byordnar heir Her life's bin cheenged, is't a gain or loss T he Future that will bring her tae the cross The littlin smiles. I takk his tiny haun We twa are pairt o an Immortal plan 16. Scots Owersets o Buddhist Devotional Texts (3.1) I ken delicht that a pure bield's bin bigged Agin aa skaith bi ilkie thing alive I ken delicht that aa things tholin wae Hae bin set fair in blyther wyes tae thrive (3.2- 3.3) I ken delicht that karma's wheel is stopped This, bodhisattvas an the Buddhas won I ken delicht that wyceness is a sea An in aa dominies that add tae thon (3.4-3.5) In ilkie airt I praise the enlichtit anes Fa's darg lichts up the bywyes o bumbazement I pray the victors sikkin nirvana Bide on foraye, tae Licht the firmament (3.6) Haein dane thon, fin I hae dane it weel Micht I syne kweel the waes o warlds' thrang (3.7) Micht I be cure, physeecian, nurse likewise Fur the ferfochen, tholin rebirth's stang (3.8) Micht I ding doon the dule o thirst an wint Drap as a shouer o watter an o food (3.9) Micht I be as a treisur kist fur aa That suffer..be a servant fur their guid (3.10- 3.11) I set aside the pleisurs o the flesh That aa things leevin I micht benefit Nirvana is aff-castin ilkie thing Tae this, I set my hairt, my heid, my fit (3.12) Kennin my weird's tae dee, I set my sicht Upon Nirvana. As a wheepin post (3.13-3.14) I'll owergie aa I hae tae succour ithers Thole scuds an cloors, an niver coont the cost I carena fur ma wardly sel ava Belittled, throoshed, befyled, tae me thon's nocht (3.15-3.16) May aa their actions bring them anely guid May my trysts ay yield meanin, socht, unsocht Gin fowk fa tryst wi me hae angered thochts Fin meetin wi me, herbour quanter musin Gin they miscaa me, herm me in their wye ` Spite aa, micht lamps be lichtit in their reason (3.17-21) Oh I wad be a lamp tae licht the derk I'd be a bed fur ony weariet randy Oh I wad be a skiffy, far thon's socht A wishin gem, a reamin cup o plenty Oh I wad be a fey, an eildritch, tree Ane o the kye that aa things may desire Oh I wad be a cure-aa, a strang spell (Fur in the mapamound, naethin's entire Untae itsel.) An sae, I wad sustain Ilkie last ane, till they their freedom gain. 17.Scots Owersett o a Prayer in Philp Astor of Tillypronie's Family Memorial, Migvie Kirk Ma corp is as grippit's a cat, staukin its prey Let ma corp be easy Ma thochts furl like willas, wheeched in Samhain wins Let ma thochts be quate Ma sowel is as wechty's peat, new-howked frae the bog Let ma sowel be licht Ma hairt is as derk's the yird, weety wi winter rain Let ma hairt be bricht 18.Simmer The michty larick raxxes tae its faa Twa hunner cheepers drap afore it dees The bluebell crines..breem briers ahin the waa In ilkie sheugh, the breenge o hairstin bees Girse shakks its silken feathers. Wi delicht a jibblin burn rins gluggerin doon the brae The Ben shakks aff the dowie shawl o nicht Even Daith wad banish dule on sic a day Nae riches buy a gowden day like thon The rose buss wytes fur sunlicht in its turn The foonert hoolet haps her trauchelt heid Ant reives the larder o the simmer's horn A stobby nettle bars the beetle's path A roundelay o swallas ring the trees Hett dockens boo their backs in ecstasy A muir-moch on a drainpipe takks her ease. 19.Dreich Dreich, an the dowie Bens, dyew-drooked Are doubly dooked in dreepin weet That saftly deists the leaves, dird-dirdin doon, A sma percussion trinklin an sweet Throwe aa, the gowden bummers bizz is loud Heistin the skirts o rhododendron buss Smachrie o pollen skirpit on their backs Their hinney hairst baith sonorous an gowd The wheeplin lintie in the larick's reist Sings sonsier amids the runnels o rain Treetlin doon an awa tae the lochan's breist Far leerichie-larachie waves cam reeshlin in Weetin this warld o wattergaw an stane Sic warlock-glisks fin greybeard Heivens greet!