Poem: At My Father's Grave by Hugh MacDiarmid

[janne_d]

At My Father's Grave

The sunlicht still on me, you row'd in clood,
We look upon each ither noo like hills
Across a valley. I'm nae mair your son.
It is my mind, nae son o' yours, that looks,
And the great darkness o' your death comes up
And equals it across the way.
A livin' man upon a deid man thinks
And ony sma'er thocht's impossible.

-- Hugh MacDiarmid


Not sure why this is the poem I want to post today, but it is. I like the Scots and the idea of hills looking at each other - and the last line is amazing.