As I walk’d by myself

As I walk’d by myself, and talk’d by myself,

Myself said unto me:

Look to thyself, take care of thyself,

For nobody cares for thee

I answer’d myself, and said to myself,

In the self same repartee:

Look to thyself, or not look to thyself,

The self same thing will be!

To a mouse

To a mouse



Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beastie,      Sleek, tiny, timorous, cowering beast,
O, what panic's in thy breastie!                   why's such panic in your breast?
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,              Why dash away, so quick, so rash,
Wi' bickering brattle!                                   in a frenzied flash
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,             when I would be loath to run after you
Wi' murd'ring pattle!                                    with a murderous plowstaff!

I'm truly sorry Man's dominion                   I'm truly sorry Man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,               has broken Nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion,                        and justifies that bad opinion
Which makes thee startle,                           which makes you startle,
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,    when I'm your poor, earth-born companion
An' fellow-mortal!                                       and fellow mortal! 

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;    I have no doubt you sometimes thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!  What of it, friend? You too must live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave                          A random corn-ear in a shock's
'S a sma' request:                                         a small behest; it-
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,                        'll give me a blessing to know such a loss;
An' never miss't!                                         I'll never miss it! 

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!                Your tiny house lies in a ruin,
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!             its fragile walls wind-rent and strewn!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,          Now nothing's left to construct you a new one
O' foggage green!                                        of mosses green
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,          since bleak December's winds, ensuing,
Baith snell an' keen!                                   blow fast and keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' wast,       You saw your fields laid bare and waste
An' weary Winter comin fast,                     with weary winter closing fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,               and cozy here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,                                you thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past                  till crash! the cruel iron ploughshare passed
Out thro' thy cell.                                        straight through your cell! 

That wee-bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,      That flimsy heap of leaves and stubble
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!          had cost you many a weary nibble! 
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,    Now you're turned out, for all your trouble,
But house or hald.                                       less house and hold,
To thole the Winter's sleety dribble,           to endure cold winter's icy dribble
An' cranreuch cauld!                                   and hoarfrosts cold! 

But Mousie, thou are no thy-lane,              But mouse-friend, you are not alone
In proving foresight may be vain:               in proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men,     the best-laid schemes of Mice and Men
Gang aft agley,                                            go oft awry,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,         and leave us only grief and pain,
For promis'd joy!                                        for promised joy!

Still, thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!         Still, friend, you're blessed compared with me!
The present only toucheth thee:                 Only present dangers make you flee:
But Och! I backward cast my e'e,              But, ouch!, behind me I can see
On prospects drear!                                    grim prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,                     While forward-looking seers, we
I guess an' fear!                                           humans guess and fear!

Ad un topo

Lucida minuscola bestiolina paurosa

quale panico porti in petto!

Non scattare via veloce un lampo!

Se volessi correre a cacciarti

con un arma delittuosa!

Mi dispiace davvero il dominio umano

a spezzare l’unione sociale,

giustifica cattiva opinione

che ti fa spavento,

ma son tuo povero compagno nato in terra

e mortale compare!

Non dubito tu talvolta rubi;

e che? poverino, devi vivere!

Un chicco a caso nel granaio è

piccola richiesta; mi

porta bene una tale perdita;

non mi mancherà!

La tua casetta giace in rovina

i muri fragili esposti ai venti!

Nulla rimane per farne una nuova

del verde muschio

che desola dicembre soffia

forte e ardito!

Vedesti campi nudi e abbandonati

vicino a inveterato inverno

e qui comodo sotto le raffiche

pensi dimorare

finchè crash! Crudele aratro

attraversò la tua cella!

Quel debole ammasso di foglie e strami

ti costò molto rosicchiare!

Ora sconvolto per le tue fatiche

senza casa né niente

a sopportare il gelo dell’inverno

e fredda brina!

Ma amicotopo, non sei solo

a dimostrar l’antivedere vano:

i migliori piani di uomini e topi

spesso vanno storti,

lasciano dolori e mali

per promesse gioie!

Poi in confronto a me sei fortunato!

Solo attuali pericoli ti fugano:

invece, uh! dietro di me vedo

misere prospettive orrende!

Veggenti del futuro noi

indoviniamo i danni!

modern English translation by Michael R. Burch

SONNET, WRITTEN ON THE TWENTY-FIFTH OF JANUARY, 1793,

THE BIRTHDAY OF THE AUTHOR, ON HEARING A THRUSH SING

 IN A MORNING WALK

Sing on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough,
Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain:
See, aged Winter, ‘mid his surly reign,
At thy blythe carol clears his furrow’d brow.

So, in lone Poverty’s dominion drear,
Sits meek Content with light unanxious heart,
Welcomes the rapid moments, bids them part,
Nor asks if they bring aught to hope or fear.

I thank Thee, Author of this opening day!
Thou whose bright sun now gilds yon orient skies!
Riches denied, Thy boon was purer joys,
What wealth could never give nor take away.

Yet come, thou child of poverty and care,
The mite high Heaven bestow’d, that mite with thee I’ll share.

Sonetto, composto il venticinque di gennaio, 1793,

giorno nativo dell’autore, sentendo un tordo

durante una passeggiata matutina

Canta ancora dolce tordo sul ramo spoglio,

canta ancora dolce uccello, la melodia:

ecco inverno vecchio nel suo burbero regno

a liete carole schiarisce il ciglio.

Nel temuto dominio di solinga Povertà

mite siede Gioia cuorleggero senza cure

dà benvenuti i momenti veloci, offre addii

non chiede se portino spemi o paure.

Te ringrazio, autore del giorno che s’apre!

Tu il cui sole brillante dora i tuoi cieli d’oriente!

Bottini negati, il tuo dono fu gioie più pure,

che ricchezza non potesse dare o trarre.

Dunque vieni figlio di povertà e preoccupazione,

la briciola che l’alto cielo procurò, con te quella condividerò.

Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish dialect

from Address to the Deil 

[...]

Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee,

an’ let poor damned bodies be;

I’m sure sma’ pleasure it can gie,

ev’n to a deil,

to skelp an’ scaud poor dogs like me,

an’ hear us squeel!

da Rivolto al Diaulo

 [...]

Senti vecchio boia un attimo,

e lascia stare i corpi de’poveri dannati;

certo il piacere è poco

persino a un diaulo,

far scalpo e torture a poveri cani come me

e udirli urlare.

Robert Burns, Canta ancora dolce tordo

SONNET, WRITTEN ON THE TWENTY-FIFTH OF JANUARY, 1793,

THE BIRTHDAY OF THE AUTHOR, ON HEARING A THRUSH SING

IN A MORNING WALK

Sing on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough,
Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain:
See, aged Winter, ‘mid his surly reign,
At thy blythe carol clears his furrow’d brow.

So, in lone Poverty’s dominion drear,
Sits meek Content with light unanxious heart,
Welcomes the rapid moments, bids them part,
Nor asks if they bring aught to hope or fear.

I thank Thee, Author of this opening day!
Thou whose bright sun now gilds yon orient skies!
Riches denied, Thy boon was purer joys,
What wealth could never give nor take away.

Yet come, thou child of poverty and care,
The mite high Heaven bestow’d, that mite with thee I’ll share.

Sonetto, composto il venticinque di gennaio, 1793,

giorno nativo dell’autore, sentendo un tordo

durante una passeggiata matutina

Canta ancora dolce tordo sul ramo spoglio,

canta ancora dolce uccello, la melodia:

ecco inverno vecchio nel suo burbero regno

a liete carole schiarisce il ciglio.

Nel temuto dominio di solinga Povertà

mite siede Gioia cuorleggero senza cure

dà benvenuti i momenti veloci, offre addii

non chiede se portino spemi o paure.

Te ringrazio, autore del giorno che s’apre!

Tu il cui sole brillante dora i tuoi cieli d’oriente!

Bottini negati, il tuo dono fu gioie più pure,

che ricchezza non potesse dare o trarre.

Dunque vieni figlio di povertà e preoccupazione,

la briciola che l’alto cielo procurò, con te quella condividerò.

Robert Burns, dalla Scozia

Robert Burns (1759 –1796)

a lasting impression on, the 16-year-old Walter Scott, who described him later with great admiration:

His person was strong and robust; his manners rustic, not clownish, a sort of dignified plainness and simplicity which received part of its effect perhaps from knowledge of his extraordinary talents. His features are presented in Mr Nasmyth's picture but to me it conveys the idea that they are diminished, as if seen in perspective. I think his countenance was more massive than it looks in any of the portraits ... there was a strong expression of shrewdness in all his lineaments; the eye alone, I think, indicated the poetical character and temperament. It was large, and of a dark cast, and literally glowed when he spoke with feeling or interest. I never saw such another eye in a human head, though I have seen the most distinguished men of my time.

Oh my luve is like a red, red rose                     Oh, my love is like a red, red rose
that's newly sprung in June:                             that's newly sprung in June
oh my luve is like the melodie                          and my love is like the melody
that's sweetly play'd in tune.                            that's sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,                         And you're so fair, my lovely lass,
so deep in luve am I;                                           and so deep in love am I,
and I will luve thee still, my dear,                    that I will love you still, my dear,
till a' the seas gang dry.                                      till all the seas run dry. 

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,                     Till all the seas run dry, my dear,
and the rocks melt wi' the sun;                         and the rocks melt with the sun!
and I will luve thee still, my dear,                    and I will love you still, my dear,
while the sands o' life shall run.                       while the sands of life shall run.   

And fare thee weel, my only luve!                   And fare you well, my only love!
and fare thee weel a while!                                and fare you well, awhile!
and I will come again, my luve,                        and I will come again, my love,
tho' it were ten thousand mile!                          though it were ten thousand mile!

Oh il mio amore è una rosa rossa rossa

appena sbocciata in giugno:

oh il mio amore è come la melodia

intonata dolcemente.

Quanto sei bella mia cara ragazza,

tanto profondo è il mio amore;

e ti amerò ancora, mia cara,

finchè vadano in secca tutti i mari.

finchè vadano in secca tutti i mari, cara,

e si fondano le roccie al sole;

e ti amerò ancora, mia cara,

quando la sabbia di vita correrà.

E stia tu bene, mio solo amore!

e stia tu bene a lungo!

ed io ritornerò, amore mio,

fossero diecimila miglia!

*

To a louse

Ha! Whare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie?               Hey! Where're you going, you crawling hair-fly?
Your impudence protects you sairly,                  Your impudence protects you, barely;
I canna say but ye strut rarely                              I can only say that you swagger rarely
Owre gauze and lace,                                             Over gauze and lace.
Tho' faith! I fear ye dine but sparely                    Though faith! I fear you dine but sparely
On sic a place.                                                          In such a place.

Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner,                          You ugly, creeping, blasted wonder,
Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner,                Detested, shunned by both saint and sinner,
How daur ye set your fit upon her—                   How dare you set your feet upon her—
Sae fine a lady!                                                         So fine a lady!
Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner         Go somewhere else to seek your dinner
On some poor body.                                               On some poor body.

Swith! in some beggar's hauffet squattle:                   Off! around some beggar's temple shamble:
There you may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle        There you may creep, and sprawl, and scramble,
Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle,                               With other kindred, jumping cattle,
In shoals and nations;                                                    In shoals and nations;
Whare horn nor bane ne'er daur unsettle                   Where horn nor bone never dare unsettle
Your thick plantations.                                                  Your thick plantations.

Now haud you there! ye're out o' sight,                Now hold you there! You're out of sight,
Below the fatt'rils, snug an' tight;                           Below the folderols, snug and tight;
Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right,                           No, faith just yet! You'll not be right,
Till ye've got on it—                                                 Till you've got on it:
The vera tapmost, tow'ring height                         The very topmost, towering height
O' miss's bonnet.                                                       Of miss's bonnet.

My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out             My word! right bold you root, contrary,
As plump an' grey as onie grozet:                             as plump and gray as any gooseberry.
O for some rank, mercurial rozet,                              Oh, for some rank, mercurial resin,
Or fell, red smeddum,                                                 Or dread red poison;
I'd gie ye sic a hearty dose o't,                                    I'd give you such a hearty dose, flea,
Wad dress your droddum!                                         It'd dress your noggin!

I wad na been surpris'd to spy                             I wouldn't be surprised to spy
You on an auld wife's flainen toy:                       You on some housewife's flannel tie:
Or aiblins some bit duddie boy,                          Or maybe on some ragged boy's
On's wyliecoat;                                                       Pale undervest;
But Miss's fine Lunardi! fye!                                 But Miss's finest bonnet! Fie!
How daur ye do't.                                                  How dare you jest?

O Jenny, dinna toss your head,                          Oh Jenny, do not toss your head,
An' set your beauties a' abread!                          And lash your lovely braids abroad!
You little ken what cursed speed                        You hardly know what cursed speed
The blastie's makin!                                               The creature's making!
Thae winks an' finger-ends, I dread,                   Those winks and finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice takin'!                                                    Are notice-taking!

O wad some Power the giftie gie us                   O would some Power with vision teach us
To see oursels as ithers see us!                             To see ourselves as others see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us,                   It would from many a blunder free us,
An' foolish notion:                                                 And foolish notions:
What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,             What airs in dress and carriage would leave us,
An' ev'n devotion!                                                  And even devotion!

Ad un pidocchio

Ehi dove vai tu, mosca pelosa?

la tua impudenza ti protegge appena,

posso sol dir che più di rado

passeggi su veli e pizzo.

Ma invero temo tu mangi assai poco

in un tal posto.

Brutta strisciante gonfia meraviglia,

detestata e schivata da santi e peccatori,

come osi metter piede su di lei –

tanto bella signora!

Va’ altrove in cerca della cena

su qualche povero corpo.

Via! Attorno al tempio di qualche mendicante:

là puoi strisciare e spargere e smammare

con altra gentile saltellante prole,

su rive e regioni;

dove corno e osso mai osi sconvolgere

le tue piantagioni.

Ora tieniti lì! Sei fuori vista,

sotto la fodera liscia e stretta;

davvero no non starai bene,

finchè non sei lì in  cima:

culmine, altezza torreggiante

della cuffia della signora.

Parola mia sei spavaldo col naso

invece tozzo e grigio come bacca.

Per quale rancida resina mercuriale,

o temuto veleno rosso;

ti darei di cuore una tale dose, pulce,

da riempirti la crapa!

Non sarei sorpreso di spiare

te su una flanella casalinga:

magari su una maglia straccia

pallida di un bambino;

ma la cuffia più fine! Via!

come puoi provocare?

Oh Jenny, non scrollare il capo

e tieni su le tue belle trecce!

Non puoi immaginare la maledetta

velocità della creatura|

Le punte delle dita, orrore,

se ne accorgono!

O ci insegnasse un potere con la visione

a veder noi stessi come gli altri ci vedono!

Ci libererebbe da molte cantonate

e qualche stupida nozione:

ci abbandonerebbero arie di vesti e carri,

e perfino la devozione!

translation into modern English from Michael R.Burch