Tuesday, 8 April 2008

Hillside and slopes were lost to sight in the clouds. There
was no colour or sound there, or hour, or light of day.
The slow, caressing rain was on hill and hollow and meadow,
and the Wee Patch was in a smoke in the
foggy drizzle of mist.

Chaidh sliosan agus leathadan à sealladh arms na neòil.
Cha robh dath no fuaim arm, no uair, no solus lò.
Bha 'n sileadh mall, rèidh, socrach air cnoc, air glaic, air lòn,
is bha 'm Paiste Beag fo dheataich

anns a' cheathach cheòban cheò.

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