A' feitheamh air latha a' bhreathanais

Hallo a chairdean, cha bhi bardachd agam an-diugh, ach tha beagan naidheachd agam. An toiseach, fhuair mi lughdachadh nam phillichean, agus mar sin, chan eil mi cho stolda sa bha mi, tha beagan beatha a bharrachd annam a-nise. Cuideachd, rinn mi co-dhunadh gun deidhinn a-steach airson teagasg, ach mhair an co-dhunadh sin da latha. Agus anns an t-saoghail a-muigh, de thachair ach ar-a-mach beag anns an Fhraing, a thoisich air an aon latha a fhuair mi mo lughdachadh. Agus sann air an dearbh ceann latha a fhuair mi m'isleachadh a fhuair mi a-mach as an ospadail ceithir bliadhna is coig miosan roimhe. An dearbh latha a thuirt ceard dhomh air sraid Earra-Gaidheal gum biodh an latha sin cudthromach dhomh, agus gu dearbha bha. De eile, bruadairean neonach, lebhraichean air an leughadh, feadhainn math, feadhainn nach eil cho math, agus mu dheireadh thall, pios bhardachd. Chan fhaigh sibh cuidhteas dhiom cho luath sin.

All our broken Boudiccas
Displayed by love for fear
Their end draws near
As fate, their enemy, flickers

All washed up, sedated
They fought for love
Not knowing why, God above
I swear my anger has abated

But their poor skulls
Their eyes deranged
Their hopes are culled

It could have been so different
Success or freedom, either change
Would have meant.....


Agus deireadh na cuise

The grasping hands of the sedative dispensers
Were as bad as being struck
In free violence, not the state's resort
Now I'm crippled,
The drain of thought is complete
I stumble verbally onward
Always reminded of how they tore down my trousers
To inject