throu the fog a bou-hocht carl an his bull
gang slow in the back-en dag ‘at haps
the sair-aff black-affrontit cottar-touns
an gangin doon the orraman sings
a luv-sang o illtricket luv
‘at spiks o a ring an the hairt it braks
och, the year’s back has struck the simmer deid
an the haar rowes up but twa grim shaddas passin
From ‘Automne' (1913) by Guillaume Apollinaire. after a translation into Scots by Paul Malgrati – see over
Paul Malgrati offered a translation into Scots of the above. I couldn’t resist an attempt at translation. Like before, the result is different again. That’s the way with language, minds and poetic form in general.
I got the thumbs up on it from Paul, so all’s well. Plenty room for expression.
You can read Paul’s original (and Apollinaire’s) here…
