11-30-2013, 10:01 PM
Look lest yer eye curls cranked and dries
te tak oot aw the colors fair, and deed ye fall
like leaf te groond, afore ye breathe wan mare
inhale...te suck the new frae old.
Beneath yon splattered, spilt'on rug,
deep watter dank, droons slumbered earth
an creepin', seekin' seeds sproot oot
their mony tendrilled, pasty threeds.
An' each wee strand, though blind of eye,
will meet the morn wi' joyful blush
oh verdant hue! Free noo, te lose
the shaklin' chains. Raise flags wance mair!
Nor din'na gaze yer sight on croons,
aw crimson 'gainst the strange cauld air!
high heaven's blue ne'r cud describe
the ache frae skies in autumned eyes.
Sae greet yer tears'n beg for time,
tho' gloamin' mists will tak yer sight;
aye closer peer upon the groond
where shadow-fall births new born life.
tectak
Celt.2013
Drumlanrig
For true,
eye curls cranked...curls-to twist or twist up, cranked is bent or distorted. Dry old eyes looking up without moving the stiff neck
te tak oot aw..to take out all
and deed you fall...and you fall down dead
like leaf te groond..like a leaf falls to ground
afore ye breathe wan mare inhale...before you breathe one more inhaled breath
te suck the new frae old...to suck the new from out of the old
yon splattered, spilt'on rug...that pointillistically spattered carpet....ahem!!
deep watter dank, droons slumbered earth...deep water, dank, saturates the sleeping earth
sproot oot...sprout out
mony tendrilled, pasty threeds...many tendrilled, pale threads
Free noo, te lose...free now to lose
Raise flags wance mair...raise the flags (flowers) once more
dinna gaze yer sight on croons again...don't stare up to the crowns again
aw' crimson 'gainst the strange cauld air...crimson against the strange (often used to mean unusually so) cold air
ache frae skies in autumned eyes...the aching beauty from skies looked at through aging eyes
Sae greet yer tears'n beg for time...so cry your tears and beg for time...greet is "to cry"
tho' gloamin' mists will tak yer sight...though the end of day (life metaphor) mist will make you blind
aye closer peer upon the groond...always look to the ground, it is closer!
te tak oot aw the colors fair, and deed ye fall
like leaf te groond, afore ye breathe wan mare
inhale...te suck the new frae old.
Beneath yon splattered, spilt'on rug,
deep watter dank, droons slumbered earth
an creepin', seekin' seeds sproot oot
their mony tendrilled, pasty threeds.
An' each wee strand, though blind of eye,
will meet the morn wi' joyful blush
oh verdant hue! Free noo, te lose
the shaklin' chains. Raise flags wance mair!
Nor din'na gaze yer sight on croons,
aw crimson 'gainst the strange cauld air!
high heaven's blue ne'r cud describe
the ache frae skies in autumned eyes.
Sae greet yer tears'n beg for time,
tho' gloamin' mists will tak yer sight;
aye closer peer upon the groond
where shadow-fall births new born life.
tectak
Celt.2013
Drumlanrig
For true,
eye curls cranked...curls-to twist or twist up, cranked is bent or distorted. Dry old eyes looking up without moving the stiff neck
te tak oot aw..to take out all
and deed you fall...and you fall down dead
like leaf te groond..like a leaf falls to ground
afore ye breathe wan mare inhale...before you breathe one more inhaled breath
te suck the new frae old...to suck the new from out of the old
yon splattered, spilt'on rug...that pointillistically spattered carpet....ahem!!
deep watter dank, droons slumbered earth...deep water, dank, saturates the sleeping earth
sproot oot...sprout out
mony tendrilled, pasty threeds...many tendrilled, pale threads
Free noo, te lose...free now to lose
Raise flags wance mair...raise the flags (flowers) once more
dinna gaze yer sight on croons again...don't stare up to the crowns again
aw' crimson 'gainst the strange cauld air...crimson against the strange (often used to mean unusually so) cold air
ache frae skies in autumned eyes...the aching beauty from skies looked at through aging eyes
Sae greet yer tears'n beg for time...so cry your tears and beg for time...greet is "to cry"
tho' gloamin' mists will tak yer sight...though the end of day (life metaphor) mist will make you blind
aye closer peer upon the groond...always look to the ground, it is closer!