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caith a h-uile clach gu làr,
leig leis an luibhe fàs -
tha anail fhathast san fhonn
mùch an teanga le smachd,
cùm an aigne fo dheachd -
srad dùbhlain fhathast sa chom
chan fhaighear sruth
nach giùlain soitheach
cuir pòr, mar chuimhne,
anns an t-soitheach
mar anail sluaighe
anns an t-soitheach
a’ giùlain dachaigh
anns an t-soitheach
à doire àrd
nan darach ruighinn
thàinig coinneal sìl
sa churach sheang
bu cholum soitheach
dhan an t--sìol
a thàinig thar
na maoile nall
bhrùchd an sìol a-mach
air leathad ’s lios
na dhuilleach gorm,
mar dhannsair dàn
bu siud an sruth
a sgaoil tron tìr
chaidh cainnt na tuath
air feadh na tìr
chaidh cumhachd fios
air feadh na tìr
sgaoil duilleach fios
air feadh gach tìr
’s ged a chaillte
bàrr nan leus,
anns a’ cheathach liath
a dh’fhàg lasair dhubh
nan ìmpireachd,
bha luchd a’ phòir
na shruth fo ghrunnd
chùm snàithleanan
de shileadh fann
siùbhlachd a’ ghuth
tro uaimh a’ chràidh,
sheinn an guth nach trèig
grian nan altramas
do bhlàth nan leus
an do chunntais thu,
a cholmain dàin,
na do long sheang sheice,
na làithean loma
a thigeadh oirnn
bhon a sheòl thu
thar na maoile,
le do leabhar mòr grèise
suaint nad chànan,
sgiath do-shàthte
an aghaidh lom-sgrìob
’s ged a dh’fhalbh an cìobair,
ged a dh’fhalbh an treabhaiche,
dh’fhuirich an tobhta, na cochall
a’ feitheamh an t-sìl
agus seall, ann an seo, eadar
coille beithe ’s cuan a’ bhradain,
a’ chlach ’s a’ ghlainne
’g èirigh mar na blàthan ùra,
solas òrach na h-ath-bhliadhna,
dùn an dòchais, dùn a’ gheallaidh
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cast every stone to the ground,
let the weeds grow wild –
there’s a breath remains in the earth
still the tongue with force,
keep the mind oppressed –
the body will not be a corpse
every current
will carry a vessel
put a seed, like memory,
into the vessel
like the breath of a people
in the vessel
carrying a home
in the vessel
from high derry
of tenacious oaks
a seed-candle came
in the slender coracle
a dove was vessel
for the seed
that came across
the bald-browed sea
that seed burst out
on slope and lawn,
its green green leaves
like a dancer, bold
that was the stream
spread through the land
a people’s words
went through the land
the power of knowledge
went through the land
the leaves of knowledge
through every land
and though the light
had lost its peak,
in the grey mist trail
of the black black flame
of empire states,
the seed’s cargo
flowed underground
the smallest threads
of flowing veins
kept the fluid voice
through a cave of pain,
the unquenchable voice
sang a nursing sun
for the bloom of light
and did you count,
bold dove,
in your slender ship of skin,
the leanest days
that fell on us
since you sailed out
across the moil, with
your great embroidered book
wrapped in your language,
impenetrable shield
against devastation
and though the shepherd went,
though the ploughman left,
this ruin remained, like a husk
awaiting its seed
and see, over here, between
birch wood and salmon sea,
all the glass and stone
rising like new blossoms,
the golden light of next year,
fort of hopes, fort of promise
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