The sheaves of corn

Bha mi raoir a' siubhal drathair
'S thainig dealbh do mo laimh
Dealbh mo sheannmh'air is mo shean'air
'S balach og na shuidh' ri'n taobh

'S iad ag obair aig na sguaban arbhair
Shuidh mi g'an coimhead fad' na h-oidhch'
Thainig cianalas na m'chridhe
'S thainig cuideam na mo laimh

Uair eile gu bhith dhachaidh
Uair eile gu bhith beo
Ruith mu'n cuairt na sguaban arbhair
Uair eile gu bhith og

Cha'n e aois a tha mi sabaid
Cha'n e mo bheatha nach eil slan
'S e bhith fuireach ann a' saoghal maide
Le chuid daoin' nach tuig mo chainnt

Dh'fhalbh mo sheannmh'air 's mo shean'air
Thuit na sguaban arbhair sios
Dh'fhalbh mi gu saobhal eile
'S dh'fhalbh a' Ghaidhlig bho mo bheul

(Chorus)

--oOo--

Last night I was looking through a drawer
I came across a photograph
It was a photograph of my grandfather and grandmother
With a small boy by their side

They were working, making sheaves of corn
I sat looking into that photograph all night
A longing came into my heart
And a heaviness bore down upon me

It is not the ageing process that I am resisting
It is not that my life is unfulfilled
It is to realise that I am living in a wooden world
With people that can not understand my language

My grandfather and my grandmother have long gone
The sheaves of corn have fallen down
I have departed to another world
And Gaelic had disappeared from my mouth

Once more to be home
Once more to be alive
Running around the sheaves of corn
Once more to be young