Scott De Buitléir's Blog

I measc na sluaite
á bhfáil réidh don deire’ seachtain’
d’aimsíos beach mór aonair
traochta ar an gcosán, i mbaol a bháis
is stop mé mo shiúl
nuair a chuireadh m’óige i gcuimhne orm

Nuair a d’ísligh mo mháthair go glúine
sa gháirdín ina raibh a croí
agus mhínigh tábhacht na mbeach don saol;
a gcuma séimh, a gcuid oibre is maithis
‘gus gurb é costas a gcosaint ná gcuid saol

Ansin, rinneas mar a mhúin sí dom;
neamhaird a dhéanamh ar na móraibh im’ thimpeall
agus a n-easpa airde go dtí gur stopas
is chuireas ‘mach mo lámh
nuair a d’árdaigh sé a lámh leochaileach chugham

Phiocas suas é go cúramach
agus sinn i lár na coincréite
chun an bpísín is lú d’fhéir a aimsiú faoi chrann
le faoiseamh a thabhairt dó.

Sa nóiméad sin, thuigeas i gceart
Go mairfidh sí istigh ionam go brách.

Corcaigh, Feabhra 2024

I'm learning how to write again right to left, new shapes, curves, and glyphs being left-handed, a ciotóg 1 it almost suits me betterbut that doesn't mean I'm a natural no, yet looking at my own name in ancient new letters each new word is a reintroductioneach verb an act of reinvention each pronoun a tool ready for relation I you he she they we connect in whatever way we can seeking simple reception without a need for translation that is why I learn what I can so "lonely" isn't a word I need to remember.

סקוט באטלר
קורק, אירלנד
ספטמבר 2023

Ciotóg: An Irish word for a left-handed person, however, this has a double meaning for being someone who is awkward in nature. ︎

“Alice, himlen kan vänta
Det finns en väg o en plats för varje människa”

[Alice, Heaven can wait
There is a path and a place for every person]

Loreen, “Alice”

How I'd love to visit my younger self;sitting him down with a coffee –the taste newly acquired, energised –and tell him, with the same kind warmth as his mother That not only does it get better, child but my – how you'll flourish and shine! How the light within, that you were afraid would dim instead glows and grows along with you. It will touch others, inspire and enchant, it will give comfort to you and yours; the lovers, friends, family chosen and few, it will show you the way home from the abyss. But for all the joy and light you possess Beware also the dark within; Your words when cold are precision knives, Icy steel, slicing flesh from foe. Remember your karate training as a kid: Attack only as defence, do not enjoy it for you'll never know what you mean to those you hurtand remorse rarely comes before the error. Know your power, know your worth Forget not those who've loved you since birth but breathe deep, chest out, and face up to the sky – What you possess is wonderful, cherish it 'til you die.

Cork, September 15, 2023

Tá laethanta ann ina bhfuil an t-aer úr glan 'gus éadrom is sonas na ndaoine le mothú le teas na gréine ar do chraiceann. Súigh isteach go mall é sin; ar nós fíona milse a roghnaíodh go cúramach dod' theanga is d'anam le blas an tsamhraidh a fhanfadh leat go brách Mar thiocfaidh gan dabht laethanta níos fuaire nuair a chuirfidh na cuimhní siúd suaimhneas ort, compord séimh agus an lá ag teacht chun deiridh.

Corcaigh, 6 Meán Fómhair 2023

Nóta: Ciallaíonn "sensommer" deireadh an tsamhraidh as Danmhairgis.

Is annamh dom teacht ar dhaoine le Gaeilge i gCathair Chorcaí, agus is annaimhe arís comhrá substainteach fiúntach a bheith agam as Gaeilge agus mé cois Laoi.

Ní hionann sin is a rá nach bhfuil cainteoirí Gaeilge timpeall na cathrach seo; déarfainn go maith go bhfuil, ach is annamh domsa teacht orthu. Tá imeachtaí ann sa chathair ar nós Sos Lóin / Iar-Ama, an Pop-Up Gaeltacht, agus mar sin de, ach aon uair agus na himeachtaí siúd ar siúl, is cosúil go mbímse gnóthach. Sin mar atá – níl aon locht ar éinne leis sin.

Mar sin, bhí sé go haoibhinn dom am a chaitheamh thar chupán caife le duine mór i saol na Gaeilge le déanaí; Risteárd Mac Annraoi. Cé gur bhuail muid trí chairde ag ócáid ag Eaglais Naomh Áine sa tSeandún tamall ó shin, chuir muid aithne ceart ar a chéile nuair a bhí muid beirt ag caifé cois Laoi thar an deireadh seachtaine seo caite. Tá go leor leor leabhar foilsithe ag Risteárd, go leor acu ina saothar aistriúcháin go Gaeilge, idir na húrscéil mhóra ar nós Agatha Christie, go scéalta eile nach mbeadh mórán eolais ag an domhan mór orthu. Duine fíorshuimiúil atá ann, agus bhí mé buíoch go bhfuair mé deis comhrá deas fada a bheith agam leis. Thug sé leabhar dom mar bhronntanas agus mé ag imeacht ón gcaifé; cnuasach litríocht na Breatnaise a d’aistríodh go Gaeilge aige, ag bualadh ar ábhar ar phlé muid faoin gceangal (nó easpa de) idir phobail na Gaeilge agus na Breatnaise sa ghnáthshaol laethúil.

Tá mé sásta go raibh a leithéid de chrinniú agam, ar chúpla cúis. ‘Sí an phríomhchúis ná go mothaím lán le fuinneamh rialta socruithe i ndiaidh dom comhrá ceart a bheith agam as Gaeilge. Deirimse ‘ceart’ mar ní leor beagchaint, ní fiú cúpla nath cainte nó comhrá bunúsach le foghlaimeoir (cé gur deas a leithéid, ach is beag fiúntas a bhainim as). Déanann comhrá ceart maitheas do m’anam, luchtann sé mo cheallraí ar nós sreang leitreachais a nascadh liom. Táimse mar an gcéanna le comhrá ceart a bheith agam i mBéarla, go deimhin, agus mé ag séanadh na beagchainte, ach tá fiúntas faoi leith ann má fhaighim as Gaeilge é.

Cé nach labhraím go minic í cois Laoi, tá sí fós tábhachtach dom.

His love language is in his actions: a morning coffee, with sweetener, complete or gifts unexpected, games or clothes or simply waiting in the airport, a welcome home. Mine is in words: Mo ghrá go daingean thú Lá dá bhfaca thú Some he understands, others not And yet, through patience and timeWe translate one another Into our own blend of dialect and tone Ergo totus tuus sum.

Cork, August 2023

I had forgotten how deathly silent the suburbs could be. It wasn't until the garbage truck's whirring from down the street was welcomed by my earsand I began to settle again And it's not that peace was nice – it can be – but it brought to mind a time when all I'd hear was nothing No movement, no noise no force or (e)motion no prompt, no push no life and yet To others my city is little more than a town; an urban marshland, quaint and carefree.Yes, I had forgotten how the suburbs don't suit me.

Cork, August 2023

They gather festerwith changing winds gaining strength – a storm foretold hits weary ground. Foreign and false, their tongues hiss and flicker under a banner of crimson like blood they lust to spill and black, the abyss they’d banish us to. The elders know well tales and tragedies of old the youth have heard but disbelieve, for who would attack this peaceful kin’dom? Yet torches burn on yonder hill blades bare, shimmering in twilight if night falls and light loses land Elysium could fall to foe and fear. Who shall love if hate takes the crown? Who shall live if the shield shatters? Who shall hope if they tear us down? Who shall defend what matters? Should war break out, take note, my dear, for darker times have passed before and serve as a lesson that never again can the foe be allowed to be victor.

I originally wrote this poem at the tender age of 21, and stumbled upon it on an old blog of mine. Some 14 years later, I’ve had a burst of pride reading it again, and can call it one of my favourite poems. I’ve slightly rewritten it for the sake of grammatical accuracy and tempo. If you can understand Irish, I do hope you enjoy it. If you don’t understand Irish, a new English translation is available here.

Is leatsa mo chroíIs leatsa m’anamA mhairfidh go síoraíLenár gcuid grá a leanannAr aghaidh gan an t-amNá’n spás de dhíth airMar bhuail muid le chéileFadó insan spéir.Is tusa mo phrionsaIs tusa mo rí'S beidh mé dílis duitseGo dtí go bhfuilim im’ luíAgus cónra im’ thimpeallIs mo chairde faoi bhrónGo léir insan teampallAg déanamh olagóin.Is tusa mo shaighdiúirIs tusa m’fhearIs tusa mo thiarnaChomh láidir le dairChomh huasal le hiarlaÓ na blianta fadóTá tusa in annMé a chosaint gan stró.Is tusa mo laochIs tusa mo stórIs tusa an téLena bhfuilim go mórIs go hiomlán i ngráÓ do chonaic mé thúIs mé leatsa anoisNí rachfainn choíche amú.

Feabhra 2009

I originally wrote this poem at the tender age of 21, and stumbled upon it on an old blog of mine. Some 14 years later, I’ve had a burst of pride reading it again, and can call it one of my favourite poems. I’ve slightly rewritten it for the sake of grammatical accuracy and tempo. If you can understand Irish, I do hope you enjoy it.

Is leatsa mo chroíIs leatsa m’anamA mhairfidh go síoraíLenár gcuid grá a leanannAr aghaidh gan an t-amNá’n spás de dhíth airMar bhuail muid le chéileFadó insan spéir.Is tusa mo phrionsaIs tusa mo rí'S beidh mé dílis duitseGo dtí go bhfuilim im’ luíAgus cónra im’ thimpeallIs mo chairde faoi bhrónGo léir insan teampallAg déanamh olagóin.Is tusa mo shaighdiúirIs tusa m’fhearIs tusa mo thiarnaChomh láidir le dairChomh huasal le hiarlaÓ na blianta fadóTá tusa in annMé a chosaint gan stró.Is tusa mo laochIs tusa mo stórIs tusa an téLena bhfuilim go mórIs go hiomlán i ngráÓ do chonaic mé thúIs mé leatsa anoisNí rachfainn choíche amú.

Feabhra 2009