Clearances

Dìreadh a-mach ri Beinn Shianta, Gur cianail tha mo smuaintean,
A' faicinn na beinne 'na fàsach 'S i gun àiteach air a h-uachdar;
Sealltainn a-sìos thar a' bhealaich, 'S ann agamsa tha 'n sealladh fuaraidh.
'S lìonmhor bothan bochd gun àird air Air gach taobh 'nan làraich uaine,
Agus fàrdach tha gun mhullach Is 'na thulaich aig an fhuaran.
Far an robh 'n teine 's na pàisdean, 'S ann as àirde dh'fhàs an luachair.
Far an cruinnicheadh na h-àrmainn, Feuch a' chaora bhàn le h-uan ann.

As I climb towards Ben Shiant, my thoughts are filled with sadness,
seeing the mountain as a wilderness, with no cultivation on its surface.
As I look down over the pass, what a chilling view I have!
So many poor cottages in disarray, in green ruins on each side,
and houses without a roof, in heaps by the water-spring!
Where the fire and children once were, that's where the rushes have grown tallest.
Where the heroes used to gather, behold the white sheep and her lamb there!

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