My Heart's In The Highland's. Again.
Feb. 27th, 2015 01:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
f4f3Inspired by reading this:
http://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/feb/27/robert-macfarlane-word-hoard-rewilding-landscape#comment-48154388
By the graveyard, Luskentyre
From behind the wall death sends out messages
That all mean the same, that are easy to understand.
But who can interpret the blue-green waves
That never stop talking, shouting, wheedling?
Messages everywhere. Scholars, I plead with you,
Where are your dictionaries of the wind, the grasses?
Four larks are singing in a showering sprinkle
Their bright testaments: in a foreign language.
And always the beach is oghamed and cunieformed
By knot and dunlin and country-dancing sandpipers.
- There's Donnie's lugsail. He's off to the lobsters.
The mast tilts to the north, the boat sails west.
A dictionary of him? - Can you imagine it? -
A volume thick as the height of the Clisham,
A volume big as the whole of Harris,
A volume beyond the wit of scholars.
Norman MacCaig, October 1983
http://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/feb/27/robert-macfarlane-word-hoard-rewilding-landscape#comment-48154388
By the graveyard, Luskentyre
From behind the wall death sends out messages
That all mean the same, that are easy to understand.
But who can interpret the blue-green waves
That never stop talking, shouting, wheedling?
Messages everywhere. Scholars, I plead with you,
Where are your dictionaries of the wind, the grasses?
Four larks are singing in a showering sprinkle
Their bright testaments: in a foreign language.
And always the beach is oghamed and cunieformed
By knot and dunlin and country-dancing sandpipers.
- There's Donnie's lugsail. He's off to the lobsters.
The mast tilts to the north, the boat sails west.
A dictionary of him? - Can you imagine it? -
A volume thick as the height of the Clisham,
A volume big as the whole of Harris,
A volume beyond the wit of scholars.
Norman MacCaig, October 1983
