Meg Bateman
英文
Ugh Briste
(Do Cholm, air trì bliadhna a dh’aois)
Sheas thu air ugh na Càsga
a bh’ agam bho aois m’ òige
’s tu dannsadh mun teine, cas-rùisgte.
Smaoinich mi mar a chomarraicheadh na Sìnich
le duilleig de dh’òr
an sgoltadh a bhiodh ann an soitheach briste,
is iad a’ dèanamh toileachas às a bhreòiteachd,
às a chàradh eadar bith is neo-bhith...
ach ’s ann a bha an t-ugh na mhìle pìos.
Is ged nach robh càil de bhreòiteachd
mun ràn a thàinig asad
’s tu bàthadh a’ chiùil ris an robh thu a’ dannsadh,
no mu na deòir theth bha a’ taomadh far do ghruaidhean,
chuirinn-sa òr air do chràdh aig an àm ud
’s tu ag aithneachadh nach buan a’ bhòidhchead.
Broken Egg
(For Colm at three years old)
You broke an Easter egg
I had kept since a child
as you danced round the fire bare-footed.
I thought how the Chinese
would mark out in gold
the crack in a broken vessel,
taking a delight in its fragility,
in its state between existing and not...
but this egg was in a thousand pieces.
And though there was nothing fragile
about your roaring
that drowned the music
you’d been dancing to,
nor in the hot tears
teeming down your cheeks,
I would mark out with gold
your sudden pain
as you understood that beauty does not last.