
Ode to a Corbie
Swift an’ black, wi’ feaithers sleek
He looms atop th’ branches.
Wi’ time, an’ tide, an’ moors sae bleak
His battered sool, entrances.
Mirk ushers in, oan corbie wings
Deid silence. Ah wait an’ listen.
Fur th’ lest c-r-r-r-ruuuck! tae me, he sings
Passion stirs, an’ mah een, they glisten.
A yearnin’ quaver, rises up frae th’ glens
Roosed by his calls, his tooch, an’ his need.
Frae his swellin’ soonds, a’m oan edge, he kens
Fur his keen, whetted glances, Ah heed.
When love’s een close, nae glancin’ back
Yit charms an’ spells sometimes daur.
With his unearthly grasp, Ah shaa ne’er lack
Each other’s longings an’ vices, we baur.
Th’ sharp, duple pitch, shaa ne’er be far
Fur oor wayward ambition, lies a nether.
Mooths against skin, mak’ e’erlastin’ scars
Stronger than time, is oor tether.
Tho ne’er was he, a raven pure an’ reit,
Forever blows th’ win’ thru mah bones.
A new wicked yearnin’ micht willin’ tak’ flight
Upon th’ day, his black heart, atones.
© Elle Wonders – 2016
Ode to a Corbie (English Translation)
Swift and black, with feathers sleek
He looms, atop the branches.
With time, and tide, and moors so bleak
His battered soul, entrances.
The dark ushers in, on corbie wings
Dead silence. I await, and listen.
For the last C-r-r-r-ruuuck! to me, he sings
Passion stirs, and my eyes, they glisten.
A yearning quaver, rises up from the glens
Roused by his calls, his touch, and his need.
From his swelling sounds, I’m on edge, he kens
For his keen, whetted glances, I heed.
When love’s eyes close, no glancing back
Yet charms, and spells, sometimes dare.
With his unearthly grasp, I shall never lack
Each other’s longings, and vices, we bare.
The sharp, duple pitch, shall never be far
For our wayward ambition, lies a nether.
Mouths against skin, make everlasting scars
Stronger than time, is our tether.
Though never was he, a raven pure and right
Forever blows, the wind thru my bones.
A new wicked yearning, might willing take flight
Upon the day, his black heart, atones.
© Elle Wonders – 2016
August 11, 2016 at 12:25 am
This is my native tongue, Elle. My primary school was about 100 yards from Burns’ grave, so when I say you have written a very convincing Scots poem, I know what I’m talking about. One wee criticism, if I may – the eliding of the to th’ only takes place when a strong sound follows and you have very slightly overdone it here; but, otherwise, I applaud a fine poem and a fine poet. Weel done, bonnie lass or if you prefer: Chapeau, madame!
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August 11, 2016 at 7:34 am
Ian! This makes me so very happy to hear, especially knowing your many credentials. Thank you very much for sharing this with me! xx
I had read about the rule surrounding the th’ word, but I am not quite sure what is considered to be a strong sound. If you don’t mind, I will message you and ask you more about it, because I’d like to get it right. 😀
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August 10, 2016 at 10:19 pm
Really good!
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August 10, 2016 at 10:24 pm
Ta! Tis mah first ode. Dae ye speak Scots?
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August 10, 2016 at 10:27 pm
Nae but Ah kin’ ay kin it slightly.
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August 10, 2016 at 10:36 pm
That’s good, ’tis a bonnie language. I’ve been learning vera slowly o’er the years.
(I adore Rabbie Burns)
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August 10, 2016 at 10:45 pm
I’ve been to Scotland 3 times. I love it and the lingo. You live there?
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August 10, 2016 at 10:58 pm
No, I live in the States, on the West Coast. Like you, I have been to Scotland several times, and there’s something very special about that place.
Are you in the UK? I’ve been three times, and have traveled extensively around England (did a 2,000 mile road-trip on one of my visits), and have seen a bit of Wales. I also took a nearly 2,000 mile road-trip around Ireland and Norn Iron (partially the UK!), which is the trip that my travel memoir is based on.
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August 10, 2016 at 9:22 pm
Amazing and beautiful!
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August 10, 2016 at 9:24 pm
Thank you! 🙂
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August 10, 2016 at 9:21 pm
The raven is trying to speak to you
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August 10, 2016 at 9:24 pm
Indeed. 🙂
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