Sàl
Is fuath leam, ged as gràdh leam sàl –
’s cruinnichte ann gach deur mo shliochd,
is mi fo sprochd air luime creige
ga bleith gu mol na tràghad.
Is fuath leam, ged as gràdh leam sàl –
’s cniadaichte leis colann mo ghaoil,
is e air chall measg cop na mara,
cho mìn a ghil’ air bhràghad.
Is fuath leam, ged as gràdh leam sàl –
’s caraichte thall gach pàist’ mo bhroinn’,
air gnùis na doimhn’, aig làn foise,
mus gèill e chuirp don tràghad.
Brine
I despise the saltwater I adore –
gathered in it, every tear of my people,
and I stand distrait on the cliff’s edge
eroding into the shingle of the beach.
I despise the saltwater I adore –
caressed by it, the body of my love,
he is lost on the froth of the waves,
so dainty against his white chest.
I despise the saltwater I adore –
carried beyond it, every child of my womb,
on the surface of the depths, their total repose
until it surrenders them to the beach.
Marcas Mac an Tuairneir
Author of Polaris, shortlisted for the Saltire Society’s Scottish Poetry Book of the Year Award in 2022, Marcas Mac an Tuairneir writes in Gaelic, English, Irish and Polari. He won the Wigtown Gaelic Prize in 2017, and is Federation of Writers (Scotland) Makar 2024 and Gaelic Editor of Northwords Now.