Mirrie Dancers

by James Sinclair

Wi da lift drawn doon
du has naewhaur ta geng
wi da herd grip o frost

Man, I canna mind da sicht o da sun.
You loss aa track o da time o day.
Is hit been weeks, months ur years?
An dan da clawin cowld turns you numb,
maks you waant ta close your een an niver waaken.
I dunna ken hoo, I feel dee lyin dere Annie
an I swear da haet o dy skien is apo me back.

But ivery noo an dan da lift pits on a fjanna,
a licht show, a hansel fae da nordern gods.
Or micht hit be da ill-natured ean playin wis fur fòls.
Sae mony shades fae green ta aquamarine
glittrn siller starn, boannie vari-orm
flicker an dance, jig an reel, trowe a winter’s lift.

Hit maks you winder if hit’s aa bye wi
an you’re passed ower ta da idder side.