The Hunger of the Heart

An dèidh na mòran mhìosan seo gu bheil miAfter these many months that I have
Air m’iarraidh a mhùchadh, ‘bacadh acraisStifled my longing, restraining a hunger
Gun cagainn agam, ‘tulgadh ‘theicheadh, ‘s tòcaidhThat shall gnaw at me, jostling to escape, and
Mo mhothachaidhean…My feelings swell…

Mo mhothachaidhean, sannt a chaoineadh ‘n aghaidhMy feelings, a lust to weep against
A’ bhroillich leathainn fhir, ‘na amhach fhearailThe broad bosom of a man, in his virile neck
Fad ‘s gun cùm sinn a chèil’. Och, chan eil mi leWhile we shall hold each other. Alas, I am not
Deòin fhuireach tuilleadh…Willing to wait any longer…

Nach urrainn mi a chumail corp blàth rùin fadThat I cannot hold a lover’s warm body while
‘S gun cneudaich e mo ghruag fad na h-oidhcheHe strokes my hair during the night
Na Geamhraidh fuair’, chan urrainn mise chaoineadh,Of the cold Winter, I cannot weep,
Air eagal nach stad…For fear that I shall not stop…

Air eagal nach stad mi. ‘S tha ‘n t-sradag ‘rith’st deasFor fear that I shall not stop. And the spark is again ready,
Ma dh’fhaoidte, ‘lasadh dìoghras mòr air a son,Perhaps, to ignite a great passion for him,
An caraid air a smaoinich mi gun robh gaolThe friend whom I thought that I
Fìor agam, aon uair…Truly loved, once…

Ach ‘bheil mo mhiann coma? Nach eil seo achBut is my wish reckless? Is this not but
Sùil chaochlaideach? Och, ciamar ‘lorgas neach sinAn inconstant fancy? Alas, how shall one find that
Gun rannsaich neach? Gun sàraich cridh’ a tha bog,One seeks? That oppresses a heart which is soft,
Nach iarr an cràdh…?That wants not the pain…?