The Evil That Men Do (Scots Owersetts & Poems)

8 Scots Owersets in ‘Evil’ pamphlet 1.The Panther: A Scots Owersett o a poem bi Rainer Maria Rilke His trauchelt glisk frae passin by the bars Has grown intae a blearie, teem-like glower It seems tae him there are a thoosan bars An oot ayont thon bars, teem air aa ower The dunt o his strang feet, thon ongaun soun O swippert tread ahin the iron bans Is like a daunce o virr, furlin aroon While in the mids, a bumbazed smeddum stauns Bit there are times the preen-pricks o his een Grow great, the strang shanks staun alert, apairt Tense wi the linn o veesions that rise up Anely tae sink an dee inbye his hairt 2 Ute Indian Prayer: Owersett in Scots Yird, larn me quaetness As the girsse is stilled bi licht Yird, larn me sufferin As auld stanes suffer wi myndin Yird, larn me tae be hummle As blossoms are hummle fin they brier Yird, larn me carin As the mither takks tent o her littlins Yird, larn me courage As the tree that stauns alane Yird, larn me ma limitations As the emmerteeen that creeps on the grun Yird, larn me freedom As the erne that flees in the lift Yird, larn me tae thole As the leaves thole daith in the Faa Yird, larn me regeneration As the seed that briers in the Spring Yird, larn me tae forget masel As melted snaa forgets its ain life Yird, larn me tae mynd on kindness As dry parks greet, eftir rain two Scots Owersetts o Poems bi John Clare 3 Winter Auld Januar rigged in cranreuch cauld Comes hirplin in an aften makks a staun The blindrift doonfaa near caas time ajee Yule stravaigs on bit dunts his shaky haun An Februar like a wee feartie quine Smilin an waefu follaes on ahin Happit in cloak o dubby roads, sair made She hashes on, aince mair her hame tae win Syne Merch, the seannachie, bi storms inspired Teets up wi blytheness on the tribbled lift An syne, in ram-stam roose, fair kittlet up She gars the hale storm byle, an gyang quick shift Yet neth the blaikest cloud a sunbeam’s gley Shaws cheerie promise that spring’s on the wye 4 The Hurcheon The hurcheon hides aneth the fooshty hedge An biggs a nest o girsse aneth its edge Or in a buss, or in a howked oot tree An mony aften boo, an claim tae see Him rowe an stap his jags fu o aik caps An creep awa, ben far the pyot flaps His wing at dubby dyke. In auncient reet He biggs a nest tae full wi wid fruits sweet On the hedge boddom, powks for nuts an slaes An like a girselowper, chirps as he gaes He rowes up like a baa or grumphie breet Fin traivellers him wi tykes at their feet I’ve seen him in their camps; they caa him sweet Throwe blaik an wersh, a tasteless kinno meat Bit they fa hunt the park for stinkin maet An wash at dubby dykes, an arna blate Tae ett fit dug’s refuse, far e’er they bide Carena a snuff for task, or guff besides Fowk say hurcheons milk kye, an fin they lie Chaw at their fleshy teats an makk them dry Bit they fa’ve seen the smaa heid, grumphie like Rowed up tae meet the oncam o a tyke Wi mou scarce big eneuch tae haud a strae Will mervel at fit fyew hae seen bi day An still they hunt the hedges aa aboot The shepherd’s tykes are trained tae hunt them oot They haive wi virr the wechty stick an stane Aa peetilesss, the fecht gaes on again 5.Thich Nhat Hanh: A Zen Buddhist Prayer Peace is in ilkie step The sheenin reid sun is ma hairt Ilkie flooer smiles wi me Foo green, foo caller, aa that growes Foo cweel the win that blaws Peace is in ilkie step It turns the eynless path itsel tae blitheness 6.A Tale: Miklos Radnoti(Hungary) English by Andrew Peters & Livia Varju Peace sleeps quaet in a cave on a Ben She’s still bit a bonnie bairn A douce deer cams tae feed her The wyver’s moosewab is wuvven tae hide her 7.Meen: Li Bain Fin I wis wee I thocht the meen wis a fite jade ashet Or mebbe a keekin glaiss in Heiven Fleein ben the blae clouds 8.A Cup that is Fu: Frae the Tao Te Ching bi Lao Tzu (Chinese circa 500BC) A cup that is fu is easily skailed A sword that is sherp is easily brukken A hoose fu o treisur is easily reived A body that’s prood is easy tae cowp Aince yer wirk’s dane, seek anely tae rest Thon is the road tae blitheness ..end of Owersetts The Cassies These are the souns that the toun cassies ken The thunnner o larry gaun racketin ben The clatter o skateboard, the hoast o a beggar The dirl o a buggy, the steps o a shopper The skirl o a seagull, the croo o a doo The blether o scaffies that wirk as a crew The tootin o bussies, the skreich o a van The lauchter o hen-nichts oot on the ran-dan The boozers an fowk that are oot on the razzle Gaun styterin alang in the dreich weety drizzle The shauchlin wauk o the auld coffin-dodgers The slappety-slap o the faist rinnin joggers The steer fin the green man clicks on wi a bleep An pedestrians hash ower the cassies like sheep The furl o a bike wheel, the dunt o a bin The splyter o rain draps. A spylet littlin’s din The newsin o friens: English, Doric, or Poles The lug-rippin soun as the roadies howk holes The loon an the quines dauchlin hame frae a class The waddin guests scalin frae kirk in a mass The dirl fin a pipe band stricks the cassies’ croun The gush as a dug’s piddles treetle on doon Tae jyne wi the chuddy, the fag eyns, the tins O fowk fa’ve nae grasped yet the eeses o bins The muggers, the chorers, the chauncers, heid bangers, Step oot wi the hairdressers, nurses an bankers Their mobile phones bleatin, like calves needin fed As Aiberdeen traivels frae worktime tae bed Nae tae mention the howl o the win aff the sea The hailsteens, the rain batterin buntin skweejee Bit the cassies thole aa…a smaa piece o the pairt That is Aiberdeen’s heirskip, its grey granite hairt Gaun deeper, an these are the souns cassies myne The toun as it wis in an earlier time The skreichin o bombers that scrattit its face The greetin an sabbin as hames turned tae aisse The clang o a shelt, as its hooves struck the road The creak o a cairt wi a fresh veggie load The chink as a tackety buit struck the stane The sweesh o a skirt heistit ooto the rain The whoosh o a tram as it drave ben the cauld An aabody younger, fin fifty wis auld The scrape o a shovel tae haud back the sna The scart o a breem as it swypt leaves awa For shopkeepers then tuik a pride in their store An keepit the street weel redd up at their door Souns o leaf, fowk an watter, fae tap tae its heid The anely thing quaet in oor toun, are the deid! John Fyfe 1830-1906: A Spikkin Portrait I am John Fyffe, a blank canvas Wi an inventive turn o mind. A Bucksburn loon, son o a quarry maister Oh aye: I invented the Steam Derrick Crane An the Blondin, that heistit 20 ton Frae a quarry’s fleer tae its edge I cadged thon idea frae a ropewye ower the Dee That cairried the mail frae the bank Tae the castle o Abergeldie across the watter An I cadged the name O Blondin frae him fa trod a tichtrope Abune Golden Square Dae ye like ma beard an mowser? Dis it makk me luik affa distinguished? An ma suit’s the verra best that siller can buy! I ained a quarry in Kemnay, while alive It helped tae bigg the London Cenotaph Biggins on Princes Street, Auld Reekie The Forth Railway Brig, The Thames Embankment, Marischal College, the Citadel, the Art Gallery, St Mary’s Cathedral, Northern Assurance offices, HM Theatre, Palace and Grand Hotels Piers, docks, viaducts, lichthouses, sea defences tae Ma wirks, like Ozymandius, rin aff the tongue in a torrent! I am the heid bummer o aa heid bummers Serjeant peinted me, aged 72 I glower oot frae the frame In truith, like a block o granite Roch hewn, thrawn an flinty Provosts favoured me, The great an the gweed Heezed roon me like flees roon sharn Ma granite helped bigg Sydney Herbour Brig. Ma wirkers tuik their skills tae California, The Mississippi Levees and Odessa. Paradise Hill is far ma wealth cam ooto The maist influential quarrier o ma time Ma wife, ma Barbara, bore me a faimily o ten, Echt dothers an twa loons. I biggit Beechgrove Hoose for us tae rear them Efter the honours, the siller, the darg, the tcyauve, the achievements Fin aa is said an dane, Fit is a man’s memorial bit his bairns? Cuisine: Inspired by The Stove in the Studio: Paul Cezanne Granmither’s dumplins, rich an rare Were sappy an beguilin Fowk lued tae sup her daily fare Sae keep the pottie bylin Mither’s mince wis wattery-kine The rowth o bree fair spylin The natural poothery tattie taste Sae keep the pottie bylin Granda’s parritch wis sae teuch It near wad dae for tilin The dauds o aets war iron-hard Bit kept the pottie bylin Auntie’s brummil berry pie Fin cooked wis ripe for wylin Ye’d traivel far tae better thon Sae keep the pottie bylin Clickety-Click: Inspired by An Old Woman with a Rosary Paul Cezanne Click-clickety-click click The string of Dementia’s beads Rattle in my hands, thin memories Click-clickety-click-click Dead man’s teeth in a mug Little bubbles rising like fish Through the tepid water Click-clickety-click-click Bouncing ball on the wall Why am I grown so old? How has this happened? Click-clickety-click-click Zimmer wheels turn beneath me Like mill stones grinding A rag and bone person Click-clickety-click-click Shuttles weaving a shroud Time is working my fingers Into shards The Odd Couple: Inspired by the Jan Arnolfini Marriage: Jan Van Eyck She’s up the duff Face like a skelped erse Naebody else wad hae her I winna lie at nicht an winner Is’t my bairn? She wis a virgin bride (A rare thing noo) Nae back-chat A dab haun at hoosewirk Vrocht her maternity frock Frae her granny’s curtains The headsquare’s happin her alopecia I’m bald masel, I’m naea beauty either My fur coat’s ooto a car boat sale Saves a fortune on central heatin At nicht we warm oor feet on oor wee dug The Wreath: Inspired by The Rosy Wealth of June: Ignace-Henri-Jean-Theodore-Fantin-Latour The wreath sits a little too easily On the bare midriff of the coffin Begonias, Lilies, Dahlias and delphiniums Begonias too, and roses Cream, pink, red Thorns and briers crown the wreath, like suffering Let us not dwell on the mortal remains beneath Let us not think of the stopped lips The stoppered orifices Like plugs in a bottle of holes Shall we show compassion for one Whom nobody liked but the florist? The guilty son sent flowers in his absence The Gowden Brig (Bairn Migrants) The warld is fu o the puir an tint Some hae hames, an ithers hae nane An mony war shipt ower the gowden brig Some war orphans, aa sailed as ane. Glesga’s gorbals, fin parents deed Seekened or pairtit, their helpless geets Prigged or borraed or chored a crust Frae haun tae moo on the hairtless streets Aff the streets an intae a Hame Chaiper tae ship ye hyne awa Far fowk are fyew an wirkers are socht Stappin yer heid wi veesions bra Aff tae the Gowden Brig o dreams Canada, far there’s wealth for aa Wee an feart, ye boord a boat Swallaein bairns in its muckle mawe Jist yer luck that the trip is roch Days o seekness, for hame, the sea Gars ye cowk, maet’ll nae bide doon At nicht ye trimmle wi misery Noo ye’ve crossed the Atlantic wave Met an fed an wytin a place Will fa chuses tae takk ye in Be kind, an gie ye a breathin space? Gin yer lucky, they micht be guid, Gin yer nae, yer a slave tae chase Kicked an cloored like an ootliined tyke Nane tae listen, or plead yer case Ae quine keepit her frostbit feet Warm, bi staunin in drappit sharn Ae loon nursed twa brukken ribs Eftir a beatin in the barn Years win by, an bairns are men Scotlan…far are their kinfowk noo? Dis ony ane care for the hyne awa Shipped awa in the last adieu? Dis yer ma drink gin, Dis she drink it oot a tin Dis she get a funny feelin That she’s gonnie hit the ceilin Dis yer ma drink gin? ...trad Maud Backhill of Ironside, Scareleys, Hareshowe Gilkhorn, East Gowkhill, Hardbedlam, on throwe Doghillock, Rashypans, Swanford as weel Sprottyneuk, Hindhillock, Drymuir, Clackhill Achreddie, Silverlead, Yonderton tae These an Pitfoskie ye’ll see in a day By Mill o Fedderagate, roon bi Balthangie Up Hill o Corsegight, far brakes are gey handy Backhill o Clackriach, Nether Gookhill Fridayhill, Kiddshill, haun on wi a will Bog o Artomfard an Punnercroft, trauchelt Back bi the Waggle Cairn wishin ye’d dauchelt At Maud, for a sup an a bite afore traivellin The length o the Ordinance Survey map, raivellin! The Hotel The hotel wis a wirk still in progress The men war still layin the fleer Bit the meals war aa fully digestit An oor atween courses, I sweir I thocht that a murder hid happened Stairs taped…wi forensic intent? Bit the tape wis fur blockin the staircase For fear fowk wid bladd the cement Aa thon guests, an wi ae elevator? Health n’ Safety wad hae sax blue fits Hid a fire brukken oot in the kitchie We’d aa hae bin birssled tae bits An the shooer wis inventit for Noah A flat fleer that the watter scooshed ben Still, the hotel provided the towels Tae sype up the sottar, ye ken The Liver Birds The Liver Birds are unca birds They dinna flech nor cheep Their body’s like an unca shag Their heid’s an eagle’s beak The She-Bird luiks far oot tae sea (For trade, a global token) The He-Bird faces tae the toun Tae see the pub yetts open Hitler’s Day Oot I winner of Hitler liked ice cream? Did he goose step ben the stran Wi his mowser stapped wi vanilla Frae the 99 cone in his haun? Did he paiddle a while wi his breeks rowed up? Did partens chaw on his taes? Fin Hitler traivelled tae Liverpool, Oh foo did he spen his days?