"Hope
you all enjoy this edition. The theme was HEAT & PASSION and we
have poems representing everything from the heat of love, to passion
for justice. Plus some lughnasadh themed poems for the season that's in
it.
As ever read enjoy and be inspired...and if inspired....Submit!
editors@paganpoetrypages.com"
(You may also wish to read an interview about the Tara Campaign, with co-editor of the Pagan Poetry Pages, at our summer issue)
Singing with Blackbirds reveals the ancestral riches of shamanic consciousness and practice among the Gaels. Stuart Harris-Logan invites us to study the resources of our native tradition and hear the song that is forever singing.
From the beul-aithris
The following waulking song comes from St. Kilda, and was recorded by Alexander
Carmichael for his Carmina Gadelica collection. Waulking was a communal process,
which ‘fulled’ the cloth in order to make tweed. Traditionally, stale urine (or a liquid of
similar chemical composition) was used, and a repetitive song was chanted in order to
break the monotony of the work. The following describes a woman singing the praises
of her lover, who is out bird hunting on the cliffs.
The St. Kilda Archipelago
gus O iorrach a’ chuain, And oh, the quiet of the ocean,
Agus O sna hiùra bho’aich, And oh, nonsense syllables,
Agus O iorrach a’ chuain. And oh, the quiet of the ocean,
Dhèanainn an clò bàn dhuit, I would make the white cloth for you,
Snàth mar an sìoman reamhar, Thread as the thick heather-rope,
Agus O iorrach a’ chuain. And oh, the quiet of the ocean.
Dhèanainn dhuit an cuaran iteach, I would make feathered brogues for you,
A luaidh ‘s a liosdaidh nam fearu, You darling and most importune of men,
Agus O iorrach a’ chuain. And oh, the quiet of the ocean.
Bheirinn dhuit a’ mhogais phrìseil, I would give you the precious moccasins,
‘S am ball sinnsir bh’aig mo sheanair, And the family heirlooms of my grandfather,
Agus O iorrach a’ chuain. And oh, the quiet of the ocean.
Mo ghaol sealgair a’ bhigein, My love, the bird-hunter,
‘S moiche thig thar linne choimhich, And first over the terrible sound,
Agus O iorrach a’ chuain. And oh, the quiet of the ocean.
Mo ghaol maraiche nan tonn, My love, sailor of the waves,
‘S mór am fonn bhiodh air a mhalaigh, And great the cheer on his brow.
Agus O iorrach a’ chuain. And oh, the quiet of the ocean.
