Blog of Yestreen
Thanks to YOU Moira Tollan!…I’ve just read this amazing Scots poem you posted. It’s so brilliant that I made an attempt to "translate" it so it could be shared further afield ..Imagine a Scots version of Tony Soprano reciting this gem!
IF I WERE GOD, SITTING UP THERE ABOVE, WEARIED, NO DOUBT NOW ALL MY WORK WAS DONE, IRRITATED WITH THE HARPS AND HYMNS UNENDING RINGING, TIRED OF THE FLOCKING ANGELS HOARSE WITH SINGING, TO SOME CLOUD EDGE I’D WANDER FORTH AND, FAITH, LOOK OVER AND WATCH HOW THINGS WERE GOING UNDERNEATH. THEN, WHEN I SAW HOW MEN I’D MADE MYSELF HAD BEGUN TO POISON, DAMAGE AND HURT, TO ROB AND RAPE , AND COMPLETELY MAKE A HELL FROM MY BEAUTIFUL SPINNING EARTH, — A WHOLE WEEK’S WORK — I’D THROW OFF MY COAT AGAIN, ROLL UP MY SHIRT ( SLEEVES), AND BEFORE THEY’D HAD TIME TO LAUNCH A SECOND ARK, TAKE BACK MY WORD AND SENT ANOTHER FLOOD, DROWN OUT ALL THE HYPOCRITES, WIPE THE SLATE, OWN MY MISTAKE, AND ONCE I CLEARED THE BROOD ( HUMAN RACE), START ALL OVER AGAIN, IF I WERE GOD
Moira Tollan: "There is a lovely lilt to Aberdonians voices, a wee poem: GIN I was God, sittin’ up there abeen, Weariet nae doot noo a’ my darg was deen, Deaved wi’ the harps an’ hymns oonendin’ ringin’, Tired o’ the flockin’ angels hairse wi’ singin’, To some clood-edge I’d daunder furth an’, feth, Look ower an’ watch hoo things were gyaun aneth. Syne, gin I saw hoo men I’d made mysel’ Had startit in to pooshan, sheet an’ fell, To reive an’ rape, an’ fairly mak’ a hell O’ my braw birlin’ Earth,–a hale week’s wark– I’d cast my coat again, rowe up my sark, An’ or they’d time to lench a second ark, Tak’ back my word an’ sen’ anither spate, Droon oot the hale hypothec, dicht the sklate, Own my mistak’, an, aince I cleared the brod, Start a’thing ower again, gin I was God."
Moira’s comment was posted in response to this blog: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10151728571299589&set=a.10150674901984589.419727.6216464588&type=1&relevant_count=1