Tomorrow I’m getting on a train to Edinburgh. Well, two trains actually. And a brief period of transit by the Chthonic Railway. Then, after a day in Dùn Èideann, I shall speed northwards (O, most beautiful of words) and on to Inverness, where my aunt and uncle live with their dogs and occasionally present children.
I adore Scotland, and being there feels wonderful. I’m really looking forward to it.
Having discovered today a new form of poetry, the Villanelle, I undertook it to write my own:
From deepest loch to highest mountain crestMother Alba
Where Roebuck still runs wild in wooded dell
In mother Alba will my soul find rest
My fealty is not fulsome, sworn in jestWith Eagle’s teaching will I build my nest
This be the soil where I shall seek to dwell
From deepest loch to highest mountain crest
I’faith, I can without a doubt foretell:
In mother Alba will my soul find rest
Upon a peak I proudly will attest:---
O Fairland, Scotland, know I love thee well
From deepest loch to highest mountain crest
I send a thousand prayers to old Gods, lestYet even if I ache with laden breast
This bitter moment be the last Farewell
In mother Alba will my soul find rest
For ancient Scotia’s every slope and swell
From deepest loch to highest mountain crest
In mother Alba, will my soul find rest?
A much better one is Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas.
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