Mìle beannachd dhut, a charaid,
   Tighinn gu carraig air nach eòl thu,
'S ma tha amaideas 'nad ghiùlain
   Cuiridh ùine sin air fògair;
Ma nì thu seasamh ann ceud bliadhna
   Nì thu liathadh mar as còir dhut,
Is nochdaidh tonnan a' Chuain Sgìth dhut
   Nach ann gun strì gheibh thu do bheòshlaint.

Ged a tha thu òg is làidir
   'S mòran chàirdean air do chùlaibh,
S iomadh oidhche 's là thig éiginn
   Nuair bhios séideadh air na dùilean,
Nuair a chopas tuinn na mara
   Tighinn 'nan steallan geala tùillich -
Cuimhnichidh tu orm an uair sin
   'S air gach cruas a bha 'nam dhùnach.

S iomadh oidhche ghruamach geamhraidh
   Thug mi gealltainn agus dòchas
Do mharaiche nan tonnan uaine
   Bhiodh air bhàrr a' chuain a' seòladh;
An uair a shéideadh i bhon iar-dheas
   Le frasan dìorrais air bheag tròcair,
S tric a rinn mo sholas iùil dhaibh
   'S e toirt an cùrsaireachd gu òrdagh.

Na dìochuimhnich a' ghruagach
   Air a bheil an cuailean òrbhuidh':
S tric a smaointean is a bruadar
   Air na tonnan uaine cròiceach;
S tric bhios iomchoir' 'na gluasad
   Nuair thig séideadh cruaidh bho Aeòlas -
Se dh'fhàg 'na h-aonar anns an uair i
   Gun tug i luaidh do dh'fhear an t-seòlaidh.

B' eòlach mi air luchd an iasgaich,
   Bha iad riamh an-seo 'nam nàbachd:
B' eòlach mi air Raghnall mac Iagain
   'S am bàta brèagh' aige, Naomh Pàdraig;
Nuair nochdadh i far Rubh' na h-Òrdaig
   Si bha bòidheach air an t-sàile -
Chan fhaca mi ré mo shaoghail
   Dol tro chaolas té cho àlainn.

Bha mi eòlach air na daoin' ud,
   Bhiodh iad daonnan tighinn 'nam chàirdeas:
S duilich leam a bhith smaointinn
   Nach fhaic a h-aon aca mi fàgail;
Rinn am feasgar aca ciaradh,
   Chaidh an grian-san sìos air fàire -
Tha iad ann an suain nan sìorraidh
   Is tuinn a' Chuain an-Iar gan tàladh.

Chunnaic mi tric a' falbh iad,
   Gillean calma, smiorail, làidir,
Maighdeannan is mnathan òg'
   A' dol air fògradh thar an t-sàile;
S mi bhiodh muladach gan ionndrainn
   Agus tùrsach gun do dh'fhàg iad -
'S bha mi ann a-seo nuair thill iad
   Ged, mo chreach, nach d'thill ach pàirt dhiubh.

Nam biodh m' eachdraidh air a h-innse
   Ann am mìneachadh clò-bhualaidh,
Bhiodh luchd aithris agus sgrìobhaidh
   Ann an iomartais a buannachd:
Tha mi ùine mhór san t-saoghal
   'S chan ann aotrom bhios mo chnuasachd -
Tha mo chomasan cho àraid,
   Dh'ionnsaich farpaisean a' chuain mi.

Chunnaic mi ri ruith nam bliadhna
   Iomadh iorghaill agus còmhrag,
Dh'fhiosraich mi dà Chog' an t-Saoghail
   'S anns gach aon dhiubh ghabh mi cò-phàirt;
Chaidh mo dhleasnais a dhearbhadh,
   Cha robh cearbaiche 'nam dhòighean -
Chan eil ailisean ri'm fàgail
   No ri'n càrnadh aig mo chòmhlaidh.

Mìle beannachd le gach caraid
   Bha cho daingeann air mo chùlaibh,
Gu h-àraid Lachlainn Mór MacCoinnich,
   Fear cho sgoinneil 's tha san dùthaich:
Bha e math dhomh 'n réis nam bliadhna
   Ann an tèarainteachd is cùram -
Guma fada fallain slàn e
   Tighinn don àite seo gad ionnsaigh.

Ach a-nis bhon thàinig caochladh
   Nì mi saod air a bhith gluasad,
Fhuair mi airgead na h-aoise
   'S tha mo shaors' air a buannachd;
Théid mi cuairt am measg nan còmhlan
   'S fàiltichidh mi le deòin is suairc' iad -
'S cha lorg iad aineolas 'nam chòmhradh
   Ged a ruiginn bòrd nan uaislean!

The Old Lighthouse of Calvay

A thousand welcomes, my friend,
   Coming to unfamiliar landing-rock,
And if there's daftness in your manner
   Time will soon put paid to that;
If you stand a hundred years on it
   You'll go grey as you ought to,
And the Minch's waves will show you
   You won't earn your living easily.

Though you're young and resilient
   With many relatives behind you,
There'll be many nights and days of crisis
   When the elements start blowing,
When the waves break into foam
   And come in white spouts of spindrift -
You will think of me then
   And of all the strength in my fortress.

On many surly winter nights
   I gave promise, I gave hope
To the mariner of pale green waves
   Who'd be sailing the high seas;
When it blew sou'westerly
   With angry showers of little mercy,
My light so often guided them
   And corrected their course.

Don't forget the girl
   With the golden head of hair:
Often are her thoughts and dreams
   On the foaming pale-green waves;
There's frequent anger in her step
   When a blast comes from Æolus -
What's now left her on her own
   Is giving love to a sailor.

The fishermen, it's well I knew them,
   They were always here around me:
Raghnall mac Iagain, well I knew him
   And his fine boat, the St Patrick;⁷
When she'd appear off Rubh' na h-Òrdaig
   She was beautiful on the ocean -
I've never seen in all my life
   A boat as fine going through narrows.

Those men, it's well I knew them,
   They would always come to see me:
It's hard for me to understand
   That none of them will see me leave;
Dusk has fallen on them all,
   Their sun's gone down on the horizon -
They've gone to their eternal rest
   With Atlantic waves crooning them.

I've so often seen them go,
   Brave lads, strong and substantial,
Girls and young married women
   Going to exile overseas;
I was sad because I missed them
   And depressed that they had left -
And I was here when they returned
   Though only some, alas, came back.

Should the story of my life be told
   In some printed publication,
Historians and other writers
   Would greatly benefit from it:
I'm a long time in the world
   And my reflections won't be light -
My powers are so particular,
   I've been tried by ocean conflicts.

I have seen through the years
   Many contests and struggles,
I've experienced the two World Wars
   And taken part in each of them;
My duties I've performed
   With no sloppiness of method -
No reproaches remain
   Or lie stacked up at my door.

A thousand farewells to each friend
   Who was so staunch behind me,
Especially Big Lachlan MacKenzie,
   As fine a man as any in the land:
He was good to me through all those years
   In security and care -
May he long keep his health and strength
   To come here and visit you.

But now since change has come
   I'll get ready and go,
I have the old age pension
   And my freedom is won;
I'll go and mingle with the crowd
   And greet them gladly and politely -
Nor will they find my talk ignorant
   Should I even reach the top people's table!

NOTE

7.   Ronald Macmillan.