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

Aideachadh	Concession
Ar cainnt a' call a lùths is sinne fas am mòrchuis os cionn chomhairle, bruadarach, is fuaranan na Gàidhlig a' doirteadh uisge ùr. Riaraichte le bùrn na claise gun ceumga thoirt nas fhaisge air fuaran fiorghlan blasta is mar an-uiridh Mòd am-bliadhna le orain cianalais is molaidh. Moladh làithean a dh'fhalbh; ag éigheach fad seachdain, "Suas leis a'Ghàidhlig." Cur tàir air comhairle, a' diuùltadh slàinte 's ar feum cho follaiseach. Sgeadaichte an aodach tartain cur sh'ithean ar litearachais aig bonn clach cuimhn' ar cànain. Eas-creideamh a' cur na ceiste, "Am faigh a' Ghàidhlig bàs?" Eagal aghaidh chur air saoghal ás aonais taic bhog deoch làidir mar dhaoine aig adhlacadh a' diùltadh creids' san Aiseirigh.	Our speech losing its strength while we grow in vanity beyond counsel, dreaming, while the springs of Gaelic spout a new water. Satisfied with ditchwater without a step to bring it closer to a fresh sweet-tasting spring and this year's Mod like last year's with songs of longing and of praise. The praise of bygone days; declaring all week long, "Up with Gaelic." Scorning all advice, rejecting health when our need's so evident. Attired in tartan clothes putting the flowers of our literature at the foot of our language's memorial. Agnosticism asking, "Will Gaelic die?" Afraid to face life without soft help from strong drink, like folk at a funeral denying belief in the Resurrection.
Iain MacLeoid	John MacLeod

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