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Glaschu Rocach (Glasgow, Wrinkled)

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TRACK NOTES

 

From ‘Air Sràidean Ghlaschu’ (On Glasgow Streets) Parts 1-3

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LYRICS

Glaschu
rocach
’s am peant a’ sgàineadh
’na seasamh
cugallach
air cnapan àrda.

Sùilean dubha,
teannaichte,
an craiceann dlùth air cnàmh na gruaidhe,
tana, sìolte,
sùilean beaga piante
Ghlaschu
a’ coimhead neonitheachd na sìorraidheachd.

Coltas na slàinte ort,
a bhodaich an dà fhichead bliadhna,
’na do shuidh air starsaich
oifis air Stràid an Naoimh Vincent,
gun bhrògan ort,
ag ite uinean.

 

 

Glasgow
wrinkled
with the paint cracking
standing
unsteadily
on high heels.

Dark eyes,
strained,
the skin tight on the cheekbone,
thin, drained,
the little pained eyes
of Glasgow
observing the nothingness of eternity.

You have a healthy look,
forty-year-old man,
sitting on the threshold
of an office in St. Vincent Street,
shoeless,
eating an onion.




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