Scottish Muid

by Lajos Áprily (1887-1967)


Haar on the watter, haar in the parks,
River and white haar o the north.
- O wha has hushed wi her ain milk
This lown earth?

There’s tides that swurl ayont aa sicht
Ablow the black craig o the ness.
The drookit sheep hae couried doun,
Dovin on the weet gress.

There’s unco dreamin in this airt,
Whaur the birks greet throu the souch:
The echo o an auld-warld ballant
In ilka castle-neuk.

And the daurk fisher’s boat
Growes ti a ghaist-ship on the seas:
And faddoms deep, Sir Patrick Spens
Lies in a dwam o young leddies.

The sea-maws stoiter i the lift,
Blinly they faa ti the grey earth.
Belike I’m dreamin nou myself,
That here I’m daunerin i the north.

And at Sanct-Aundraes, bi the haar
Raither nor bi the müne convoyit,
There walks in sleep thon braw Scots queen,
Her doo’s-neck splattert ower wi bluid.

Transcreated from the Hungarian by TOM HUBBARD with ATTILA DÓSA