This summer, we launched our Words of the Wild nature writing competition, encouraging people to send us stories inspired by Scotland’s wildlife and wild places. We had a fantastic response, with over 500 entries submitted. Below, you can read the entry from one of our adult finalists, Marcas Mac an Tuairneir. We will be announcing the winners of the competition at our 60th anniversary event at the Scottish Parliament on 13 November.

Òran an Fhèidh

by Marcas Mac an Tuairneir

(song – translation below)

Is mi an lainnir leth-fhaicte sa choille,
fo sgàil nan duilleagan is glas ùr-fhàis,
mo bhian cho ruadh ris gach leathad
’s cuirt’ san Fhoghar gach laoim gu bàs.

Bi air d’ fhaiceall mas tu a theannadh rium dlùth,
oir, leis an dìobardan, bheir mi às,
measg gach geug is blàth nan craobhan
’s e tha dhomh tèarmann,
is tha fasgadh do gach dathas ann.

Chorus:
Leig leam ruith,
thar nan stùc-bheann b’ aithne dhomh is mi nam laogh.
Na tig nam char,
ged a ghabhadh tu fod sheilbh gach gleann is bràigh.
Leig leam beò,
na mo thìr is mi ag òl o allt nach traogh.
Na tig fam chobhair
oir ’s tu a thionndadh m’ fhonn gu càrnan m’ uaigh’.

’S ann annam tha èirigh ’s gealladh grèine,
fo chasan-searraich, dannsam seo mo dheann,
nach fhàg thu mi ciùin is aon-fhillte
ged ’s tu a bheireadh mo linn gu ceann.

Biodh ort nàire mas tu thruailleadh mo shaoghal,
b’ ann leis gach beathach seo a bha an gleann
’s sinn co-shìnt’ ri cearcall beatha
’s biodh sin na thèarmann –
’s sin oighreachd do gach luran ann.

Chorus

Is mi a thigeadh gu ìre air an raon,
fàgte saor air lèanagan far am bòrc feur,
le bàine gid a bha cho brèagha air mo cheann,
’s sin a thilg bhuam mi, le làn aois,
a-nis ’s mi a chì gach rud a chuireadh tu air ais,
bha e ann mu thràth, na tig nam char,
eagal ’s gum mair gach clach is coinnleag mar a bha.

Chorus

Deersong

I am the flicker, half-seen in the forest,
under the leaves’ shade and green regrowth,
my pelt as russet as the hillside,
when the autumn brings the undergrowth to its close.

Be careful if you would approach me,
as, with the haze of summer, I will vanish,
amongst each branch and treebloom
this is my sanctuary,
and a shelter for young.

Chorus:
Let me run,
across the mountain peaks I knew as a fawn.
Don’t come close,
if you’d own every glen and brae.
Let me live,
within my land, drinking the stream that does not dry.
Don’t approach,
to do so turns my home into my gravestone.

In me, the ascent and promise of the sun,
under sunshafts, let me dance here my dash,
could you not leave me quiet and uncomplicated,
even if you’d bring forth my end of days.

Shame on you if you’d pollute my world,
for to every beat belonged the glen,
and we, lain in parallel with the cycle of life,
let this be our sanctuary –
it is the birthright of each one here born.

Chorus

If I could come to age upon the uplands,
left free where green shoots erupt,
with a flash of white, so beautiful on my head,
this I would cast from me, in the fullness of age,
and now I’d see
that all you’d put back,
has already been,
don’t approach me,
lest every stone and bud remain, as it was.

Chorus

Read the entries from our other two adult finalists:

• In the Stillness by Hannah Murphy
• A Walk in the Wild by Anne V McClure