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

Anns A' Bhalbh Mhadainn	Sheep
Anns a' bhalbh mhadainn bha clàr an fnuinn còmhnard, bha a' ghaoth aig fois, a strannraich 's a sitheadh bàthte fo'n ghilead, gach bleideag 'na tàmh, càiricht san fhighe mhin ud mar gheal phlaide. Chaill sinn na caoraich bha muigh air mòintich nuair thaom an stoirm ud a-nuas 'eallach, is thug sinn a' mhadainn gan than shireadh. Thainig stoirm air mo dhùthaich, sneachda mìn, marbhteach, mùchaidh: ge geal e, na creid 'na ghilead, na cuir t'earbs ann an anart; dheanadh mo chridhe iollach nam faicinn air a' chlàr bhàn sin ball buidhe s gun tuiginn gu robh anail a' Ghaidheil a' tighinn am mullach.	In the still morning the surface of the land was flat, the wind had died down, its rumbling and thrusting drowned under the whiteness, each snowflake at rest, set in its soft fabric like a white blanket. We had lost the sheep that were out on the moor when that storm unloaded its burden, and we spent the morning desperately seeking them. A storm came over my country, of fine, deadly, smothering snow: though it is white, do not believe in its whiteness, do not set your trust in a shroud; my heart would rejoice were I to see on that white plain a yellow spot, and understand that the breath of the Gael was coming to the surface.
Ruaraidh MacThòmais	Derek Thomson

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