AM BLÀR MU DHEIREADH
Le Maoilios Caimbeul, Bàrd a’ Chomuinn
Thig e
gun teagamh, am blàr mu dheireadh,
dhòmhsa agus dhutsa,
thèid na dùilean seachad
’s bidh na sùilean dùinte.
Thàinig e,
Cùil Lodair, am blàr mu dheireadh, air talamh Bhreatainn,
am measg bhlàran gun chrìch bho thoiseach eachdraidh
Thermopylae, Marathon, an Somme, El Alamein, Mariupol,
na h-òg-chraobhan uaine air an sgath sìos,
suarach an gnìomh a bhith marbhadh ar seòrsa,
ged a thig e mu dheireadh dhutsa agus dhòmhsa.
Thig e
gun teagamh, am blàr mu dheireadh,
’s bidh na gunnachan dìomhain
’s na sligean falamh
’s na h-urchairean sàmhach.
Nuair a shìolas a chòmhstri,
cha bhi na h-aibhnichean leònta,
cha bhi na h-achaidhean truaillte.
Thig i
gun teagamh, rìoghachd na sìthe,
am blàr mu dheireadh seachad
agus an rìgh air a’ chathair.
Sgapaidh deagh-ghean mar fhalaisgear
agus gràdh mar sholas neo-mhùchte;
Thig i
agus càirdeas mar chraoibh le geugan farsaing.
Bidh na blàran seachad
agus am bàs fhèin air fhuadach,
cha bhi pian ann nas mò
ann an rìoghachd an Uain.
THE LAST BATTLE
It will come
no doubt, the last battle,
for me, for you
the elements will pass
and the eyes will close.
It came,
Culloden, the last battle on British soil,
among endless battles from the beginning of history
Thermopylae, Marathon, the Somme, El Alamein, Mariupol,
the saplings cut down, the dear young men,
wretched the deed to kill our own kind,
although it will come in the end for you and for me.
It will come,
no doubt, the last battle,
and the guns will be idle
and the shells empty
and the gunshots silent.
When strife will subside,
the rivers won’t be harmed,
nor the fields polluted.
It will come,
no doubt, the kingdom of peace,
the last battle over
and the king on His throne.
Goodwill will spread like muirburn
and love like unhidden light.
It will come,
and friendship like a tree with branches spread.
The battles past
and death itself banished,
there will be no more pain
in the kingdom of the Lamb.