# 4.4.2 The bilingual poet

Aonghas MacNeacail, although he uses only the Gaelic form of his name, writes highly acclaimed poetry in both Gaelic and English. There are many journalists, actors and broadcasters who do the same, thus extending their range and marketability.

Figure 30 Aonghas MacNeacail

Aonghas’s poem on Marilyn Monroe, written in both languages, is given below. Click here to visit Aonghas MacNeacail’s website.

## Marilyn Monroe by Aonghas Macneacail

òr 'na do ghruaig | gold in your hair
òr ann an ìnean do chas | gold in the nails on your feet
òr ann an ruisg chadalach do shùilean beò | gold in the sleepy lids of your living eyes
òr 'na do ghruaidhean, 'nam fathann athaidh | gold in your cheeks, in their rumour of a blush
òr ruadh do bhilean | red gold of your lips
òr sa ghualainn mhin àrd a' fasgadh do smig | gold in the raised shoulder that shelters your chin
òr anns a' bhroilleach ghealltanachd | gold in your breasts, their promise
paisgte 'na bhad | enfolded in wisps
òr 'na do chneas seang, air miadan do chruachan | gold in your slender waist, on the meadows of your hip
ann an lùb nan sliasaid is | in the curve of thigh and
air glùin nan dìomhaireachd | on your knee of mysteries
rinn d' adhbrainn òrach | your golden ankle gave
dannsa caol | slim dances
do gach sùil a shealladh | that any eye could see
airgead-beò 'na do chuislean | quicksilver in your veins
airgead-beò 'na do chridhe | quicksilver in your heart
airgead-beò gu na h-iomaill | quicksilver to every corner
dhe d' anam | of your soul
agus d' osnadh, do ghàire | and your sighs, your laugh
do ghuth-seinn, do ghuth-labhairt | your singing, your speech
mar bhraoin de dh'òr | like a mist of gold
agus do gach fear a chùm | and to every man who kept you
air lios leaghteach nan dealbh thu | on the screen's dissolving field
òr, o | gold, from
bhàrr calgach do chlaiginn gu | the maned top of your skull
buinn rùisgte do chas | to the bare soles of your feet
òr, òr, òr, | gold, gold, gold,
beò no marbh | alive or dead
their cuid nach robh thu cho cùbhraidh | some say you weren't so fragrant
's iad a' deothal an t-sùigh | as they suck the substance
a sporan suilt òrach do bhèin | from the fertile purse of your skin
òr, òr, òr | gold, gold, gold

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