This poem was inspired by scots poems and is about inspiration that can be found in nature. I saw a visitor's book from Corrour Bothy from the 1930s which was the catalyst of inspiration for this poem.
Some translations for non-scots understanding readers:
Bothy - small remote shelter for hillwalkers
Braw - if something is braw it is good
Bonnie - pretty
Baltic - freezing
Dreich - dull
Drookit - drenches
Burn - small river
......
The sky-blue bleeds into the daffodil yellow melting into the burning orange,
harshly interrupted by the black roaring mountains erupting from the earth.
Only for the magnificent mirror to continue again in those blues, yellows and oranges.
The shifts in the current tear through the fabric of the river, staining the blue with patches of coral pigment.
A blazing ball projects the beauty to only four eyes. Wonder only seen by two people. Wonder that can only be found and only be enjoyed in one of few places left that is truly wild.
......
(A burn is a Scottish word for a stream or a creek)
‘And I become one with the wild’,
He writes sat with feet in the burn,
Not too far from the warmth of a fire.
The fire will burn out and leave a pile for someone to see later,
......
I bet you have everything
You could ever gloat
All the pain you caused in the process
Well fuck it, I left that sorry pain in Saltcoats
And although I'm deprived of sleep
And feeble feelings in this downbeat
Memory of my hometown, where teachers still pray for me
But does God not know that by now, you were the only light I did need.
WAE worth thy power, thou cursed leaf!
Fell source o' a' my woe and grief!
For lack o' thee I've lost my lass!
For lack o' thee I scrimp my glass!
I see the children of affliction
Unaided, through thy curst restriction:
I've seen the oppressor's cruel smile
Amid his hapless victim's spoil;
And for thy potence vainly wished,
To crush the villain in the dust:
......
(A burn is a Scottish word for a stream or a creek)
‘And I become one with the wild’,
He writes sat with feet in the burn,
Not too far from the warmth of a fire.
The fire will burn out and leave a pile for someone to see later,
......
The sky-blue bleeds into the daffodil yellow melting into the burning orange,
harshly interrupted by the black roaring mountains erupting from the earth.
Only for the magnificent mirror to continue again in those blues, yellows and oranges.
The shifts in the current tear through the fabric of the river, staining the blue with patches of coral pigment.
A blazing ball projects the beauty to only four eyes. Wonder only seen by two people. Wonder that can only be found and only be enjoyed in one of few places left that is truly wild.
......
This poem was inspired by scots poems and is about inspiration that can be found in nature. I saw a visitor's book from Corrour Bothy from the 1930s which was the catalyst of inspiration for this poem.
Some translations for non-scots understanding readers:
Bothy - small remote shelter for hillwalkers
Braw - if something is braw it is good
Bonnie - pretty
Baltic - freezing
Dreich - dull
Drookit - drenches
Burn - small river
......
I bet you have everything
You could ever gloat
All the pain you caused in the process
Well fuck it, I left that sorry pain in Saltcoats
And although I'm deprived of sleep
And feeble feelings in this downbeat
Memory of my hometown, where teachers still pray for me
But does God not know that by now, you were the only light I did need.
You know that I won
Some say I clear lost
Their whines so exhaust
Wrong man they just crossed.
How wrong they all are
Fools to a man
When I've only began
To work out my plan.
......