The Gaelic Poetry Nook will present poetry both in English and Gaelic.

Achadh-bhuanna	Harvest Field
Air feasgar meallta a measg nan adag is pàirt gun a bhuain, thàinig tu 'n rathad, is chuir mi mo speal an sin am falach air eagal gun dèanadh am faobhar do ghearradh.	Once deceptive evening, among the sheaves, with some of the corn uncut, you came by, and I put my scythe then in hiding, for fear that the edge of the blade would cut you.
Bha ar saoghal cho cruinn ris an achadh-bhuana ged bha cuid dheth abaich is cuid dheth uaine; an là ri obair `s an oidhch' ri bruadar, Is dh'éirich a' ghealach a meadhon suaimhneis.	Our world was rounded like the harvest field, Though a part was ripe and part green; The day to work and the night to dream, And the moon rose in the midst of content.
Dh' fhàg mi beagan ri bhuain am màireach, is choisich sinn còmhla eadar na ràthan: thuit thu air speal bha fear eile air fhàgail, is ghearradh do chneas, is dhiùlt e slànadh.	I left a little to cut on the morrow, And we walked together between the swathes: You fell on a scythe that another had left, And you skin was cut, and refused healing.
Ruaraidh MacThòmais	Derek Thomson

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