Spontus eo da vragou

hello a chairdean, mus bi mi anns a' phriosan as deidh na G ochd, bidh mi a' feuchainn ris a' mhorchuid dhe mo bhardachd a chlaradh airson bhur tlachd, ged is beag a tha sin an coimeas ris na gheibheadh tu bho bhith gearradh dheth t'ordagan. Ach co-dhiu, corragan ann no as, seo a' phios dhen latha a tha a' toirt dhomh an sonas as motha. Trulais a thoirt nur n-aire, airson's gun cnuasachaibh air cho beag ciall a bh'agam nuair a sgriobh mi e, neo cho beag ciall a th'agam a-nis a bhith ga claradh an-seo. Belarus, bha mi eolach air duine a thainig a Belarus, agus 's e duine gu math laghach a bh'ann. Chan eil fhios am ca bheil e a' fuireach a-nise, thainig e a Minsk, agus sdocha gun do sparr an riaghaltas uile-mallaichte againn air-ais e dhan an duthaich sin fo Lukashenko, an deachdaire mu dheireadh air Tir-Mor na Roinn-Eorpa. Ma tha Vadim a'fuireach ann an aiteigin, far an leughadh e seo agus mas e gun do dh'ionnsaich e Gaidhlig, Dobry Utro. Spakwene Nosh agus iomadh rud feumail eile a dh'ionnsaich tu dhomh ann an Ruisis.

Co-dhiu, mus bris mi an co-chordadh a tha eadarainn, seo tri dan agam dhuibh,

The beauty of the mute surpasses
Anything that lay within my heart
She kissed my brain too long and now
My mouth has not the strength to part
My lips which once she saw sublime
My teeth which made her laugh
I drift along the streets like dust
My words float on the wind as chaff
And in my sense I suck a cancer
The chasm in between us two
It grows upon my mind with glee
And ruptures cells and human glue
Until I shake with trepidation
At the sight of any blondish hair
And curse her in my evil phases
Her youth my bane, oh I'm aware
That love is fickle at an age
Where commodities have taken root
It's not worth trust or confidence
She hoards me like some human loot
But pity strikes all unforeseen
And love's glory brings to bear
The justice unknown in madness
She'll remember me, that at least is clear

Fear mu dheidhinn ghaoil, agus fear mu dheidhinn fearas-riaghlaidh

As Britain descends into Fascism
I watch the screen for a sign
When will Blair become a Fuhrer
Or Blunkett proclaim himself next in line
As the undying heirs of the Nazis
The cartel drew up the reins
With Straw sending bombs overseas
New Labour will siphon your brains
And murder the last of the victims
Who their arms exports have harried away
And silence the voices of protest
Against corpsism, the Reich and the state
With a bludgeon held by the cowards
Who dress up in black every night
To frighten the poor and unhealthy
Into giving up the last of their rights
A global police state beckons forth
The leaders build it piece by piece
And the less you do the less you can
It's over there is no more peace
But a welcome glow of solidarity
Still grows as we take up our arms
Agaisnt every fascist in every position
Be it leaders, or followers, we fucking harm

Agus a-nis, rudeigin buileach eadar-dhealaichte

Briogais agus mi, mo mhisneachd
Si a rinn an rud nach ceart
Chuir i mi gu bun na lochan
Airson suirighe le bana-shagart

Cha robh briogais oirre fhein
Nuair a thanaig i nam rathad
Agus, thuirt i, stu tha maslach
Chan e Dia a th'ann ach bod

Uill, uill, nach sin tha sanntach
A bhith ag aithris mu fheise seun
Leis a h-uile biod dheth breugach
Ach sin a rinn mi na teis-meadhan

Nuair a bha a ciochan sgapte
Bho cheann an ear Loch-Tatha
Gu ceann an iar Eolagarraidh
'S e rud doirbh a bh'ann do mhna

A bodach pasgadh as am meadhan
Gun fhagail bodhar leis na bh'ann de dh' fheoil
'S i bha ceacharra an latha ud
Ag obair air-san le a beoil

Gus an do shluig i siol nan daoine
Bodach coir ga thraoghadh fhein
Ach an rud nach fhacas tuilleadh
Am bodach coir mus tig am braidhm

Hee-hee, nam faighinn bana-shagart, bhithinn toilichte, ach chan eil moran dhiubh ann nar laithean-ne.
Co-dhiu, tioraidh
Daibhidh