Chunnaic mi do dhealbh mar òr-sheud
Am pàipear Posta Di-Dòmhnaich
Mar reul iùil do dh'fhear an t-seòlaidh
     Bhios air bhòidse fad' bho thìr.

Chunnaic mise dealbh na h-àilleachd,
Rìbhinn ghrinn a' chuailein fhàinnich,
Marcachd steud air achadh fàschoill -
     Ìomhaigh fhàilteach agus sìth.

Aodann aoibhnis choibhneil chàirdeil,
Dreach do ghnùis mar ubhal an gàrradh;
Deud cho geal ri sneachd air àrd-bheinn
     'S cathadh-làir air ùrlar glinn.

Tha do shùilean ann am bòidhche
Mar an dealt air bhàrr nan neòinean;
Calpa cuimir is troigh chòmhnard -
     Cha do sheas am bròig cho grinn.

Ged a mharcaich thu na leòidean
'S air raointean farsaing tha d' mhion-eòlais,
Cha do smaointich thu 'nad òige
     D' ainm bhith 'm meòmhair anns na glinn.

Cha do dh'aisling thu air cluasaig
'S cha do bhrist e steach 'nad smuaintean
Gum biodh do dhealbh ann cho luachmhor
     Am measg ghleanntan uain' an fhraoich.

Camilla's Picture

I saw your picture like a golden jewel
In the paper Sunday Post
Like a guiding star to the mariner
     On a voyage far from land.

I saw the picture of beauty,
Handsome lady of the golden tresses,
Mounting a steed on a green field -
     The image of peace and welcome.

A face of joy and friendship,
The hue of your complexion is like an apple in a garden;
Your teeth as white as snow on a mountain
     And ground drift on the floor of a glen.

The beauty of your eyes
Resembles the dew on a daisy;
The calves of your legs are attractive and elegant -
     As graceful as stood inside a shoe.

Although you rode on many fields
And of wide plains you have vast knowledge,
You never thought in your younger days
     Your name would be remembered in the glens.

You never dreamed on your pillow
And it never entered your mind
That your picture would be so treasured
     Among the green heathery glens.

(author's translation)