Tuesday, April 7, 2009

The Hope of Things Unseed

Things Unseed
(a Lowland Scots poem for Holy Week)

The wairld's naethin but mud, the day.
The greetin mist (greetin=weeping)
skirls roond ma wrist
an draws me doon
tae cauld, cauld clay.

Nae Paschal lamb lowps on oor brae: (lowps=leaps, brae=hillside)
The yirth's sae bare (yirth=earth)
an strewn wi care;
the slaistered stanes (slaistered=muddy)
girn whaur they lay. (girn=complain)

Smoored is the licht. (smoored=smothered)
Smoored is the yirth.
Lead's in the veins an the hairt, the day.
Faith? Ah've mislaid it.
Hope's gane grey.

Och, Hush yersel, lass. That'll dae.
Bend yir knee.
Hush. Can ye hear it?
Lean tae the loam, lass.
Dinnae ye see?
Wee roots doon in the dairk are singin.
Wee blossom-buds amang thorns are springin.
Wee leaf-hauns tae heaven are flingin!

This mingin yirth reeks wi life, the day. (mingin=filthy)
Tho mist micht writhe,
The greenfolk kythe. (kythe=recognize, understand)
Doon in dairk hairts an fertile grief
We leaf. Och, help oor unbeleaf:
These things we pray.

--copyricht Mainecelt, April 2009


Songbird said...

I really like that. I was just looking for a poem for the bulletin...think it would go over? ;-)

MaineCelt said...

Gosh! Sure, if you wanna!
Permission granted to cut and paste or use a snippet if it's "tae lang" to use the whole thing.


Mama Pea said...

B-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l. I had to grab a kleenex.