Hiraeth (pronounced [hiraɪ̯θ])

 
  As soon as I saw this amongst the half-dozen postcards with poems released by the Scottish Poetry Library for National Poetry day I knew I had to send it to elisi , even though it's in Scots and both of us are going to have to do a bit of exploratory translating to get the full gist of it. I have posted off the postcard this came on, as well as a full set of the poems for this year but, as I knew they wouldn't arrive in time for the day itself and I wanted to doubly make sure she saw it before this weekend I decided to finally post something on this DW. 

  So here 'tis. 


  Doctor Wha 
     Wha's Doctor Wha? Whabetter kens nor he 
  that jouks the yetts and rides the birlin wheels 
  a time and space, shape-shiftin as he reels 
  through endless versions o reality? 
  Bit dis he ken himsel? Weel, mibbe sae, 
  yet wha's tae ken gin aw that's kent by Wha 
  maks mair or less or better sense ava 
  nor whit we ithers ken, or think we dae? 
  The universe is fou o parallels: 
  wha's like us? Hunners? Thoosans? We oorsels 
  micht be mere glisks o life-forms yet tae be. 
  Whit's real? Whaur's here? 
  When's noo? Wha's quick or deid? 
  Wha's jist a thactie in anither's heid? 
  Wha's Doctor Wha? Wha better kens nor s/he? 

   James Robertson 


   Hope you enjoy both poem and Jodie Whittaker's debut. 

   Kerk Hiraeth