Ceum air cheum / Step by Step brings together 12 longer poems written between 1989 and 2008 and covering a wide range of subjects, including the difficulties the poet encountered in identifying with a single nation and culture, what it feels like to move between languages, the alienation of growing up gay in a hostile community, the fate of the Transylvanian Saxons, the poet’s complex relationship with a Gaelic poet from a previous generation whose work he edited and translated, Sorley MacLean (Somhairle MacGill-Eain 1911-1996), and an unrealised love with an older Slovenian poet.
At its centre is a powerfully moving address to his mother from a son whose father has abused him, of which Niall O’Gallagher offers a chaste and compelling version in Scots.
The book closes with a tribute one of the two Nicolson sisters who ran a hotel in Skye, a woman who offered the poet crucial insights into the language and the communities where it is spoken.
Christopher’s sixth collection was widely praised when it appeared, and was nominated for two national prizes in Scotland.
Creidear le cuid gum bi na bàird ag obair an dearbh eitean cànain, mar gum b’ ann an cridhe nid, ’s e socrach, cofhurtail, air neo mar dhamhan-allaidh, ’s e ’na shuidhe am meadhan eig’, ag imleachadh ’s a’ snìomh. Ach mar as trice, bidh na bàird rim faighinn
aig iomall cànain, far an tèid i thairis an rudeigin eile, cànain eile, ’s dòcha, air neo na dh’fhairtlich gus an àm air inntinn daonn’ a chruthachadh no chur an cèill, air neo gu simplidh anns an fhalamhachd fhèin, ’s am bàrd mar neach a tha crochte air dèil’,
ro aghaidh togalaich, le clogaid air a cheann, a’ peantadh gu dìcheallach, air bhàinidh, aig a chùil an neonitheachd, nach dùraig e eadhon a smaointinn oirre, is i cho an-mhòr reòdhta aig a ghuailnean.
from ‘Escaping from one language to another’
Some believe poets work right at the core of a language, as if at ease in the heart of a comfortable nest, or, like a spider sitting in the middle of a web, licking its lips and spinning. But more often, poets can be found
at the edge of a language, where it moves over to something else, another language, or that which the human mind has so far failed to conceptualise or articulate, or simply into emptiness itself. The poet sits suspended on a plank
before a building’s façade, a helmet on his head, painting diligently, furiously, with a void behind him he doesn’t even dare to think about, so great and frozen over his shoulder.
translated by Niall O’Gallagher
Cha b’ ann le mi-riarachadh, tha mi ’n dòchas, no le neo-fhulangas a shealladh tu air na rinn mi leis na fhuair mi bhuat. ’S tu mothachadh do m’ spòrs is do m’ eas-urram, dhùisgeadh do ghàir’ is t’ aoibhneas, tha mi smaointinn,
bhiodh tu gam bhrosnachadh, ’s mi dèiligeadh ri cuspairean nach tric a bhruidhnear air. Ged nach deach ar n-àrach an aon chànain, ’s e follaiseach a bhiodh mo chòmhradh air do shon a nis, is tu gam chluinntinn, oir rinn mi tasgaidh dhe na chruinnich mi nuair a bha sin còmhl’. A spioraid fhaoilidh,
tha mi dùraigeadh gum bi mo bhriathran a’ drùidheadh thugad, mas e taibhs’ air faontradh am measg nan taibhsean eil’ a th’ annad fhathast, mar ghath dhe leus an t-saoghail seo a th’ againn; air neo, ma tha thu cheana air do bhreith às ùr, gu ruig iad thu mar chuimhne aotrom, ’s i tighinn ort gun dùil, gun chèill, gun reusan.
from ‘Remembering Mary Flora’
I hope you wouldn’t look on what I made of what I got from you intolerantly or with dissatisfaction. As you observed my fun as well as my irreverence, your laughter and delight would be awakened,
encouraging me as I laboured with subjects that aren’t often spoken of. Though we were not raised in the same language, my words for you today would sound clear were you to hear them, because I made a store of everything I gathered up when we were together. Generous spirit,
if you are still a ghost, astray among the other wandering shades, may these words find their way to you as a frail ray of light from this world of ours; or if you have already been reborn, may they reach you as a haunting memory that comes unexpected, unexplained, unreasoned.
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