Frae the French o Gérard de Nerval

Ah’m the schadowit een – widaw man – ayont ease,
The Prince o Aquitaine tae the fawen toor:
Ma sole Star’s deid – an ma lute w’starn
least Hauds a dark sun peakit and door.
In the lair’s nicht – ye wha made me easy,
Gie’s again Posilippo an th’Italian sea,
The floor whit sae pleisurit ma hairt sae eerie,
The wa whaur grape an rose thegither be.
Ah’m a Venus or Phoebus? – Lusignan or Biron?
Ma heid’s aye reid fae the buss the Queene’s gien;
Ah’ve dreamit in the sea cave whaur swims the sirene…
Twicet beirin the gree Ah’ve crossit Acheron:

Ower the Thracian’s lyre slidin sang fir sang,
The saunt’s dule an the wee fowk’s wrang.

David Malcolm