Sorley MacLean (1911-1996)is recognised as one of the great British poets of the twentieth century, in spite of his work being mostly in the Gaelic language, and so inaccessible to most of us in its original form. The following English version is the poet's own translation. The poem, from the 1930s, strikes me as a condemnation of the "unco guid", the canting hypocrites who love the Lord but not their neighbour.

CALVARY

My eye is not on Calvary
nor on Bethlehem the blessed,
but on a foul-smelling backland in Glasgow,
where life rots as it grows;
and on a room in Edinburgh,
a room of poverty and pain,
where the diseased infant
writhes and wallows till death.


CALBHARAIGH

Chan eil mo shùil air Calbharaigh
no air Betlehem an àigh
ach air cùil ghrod an Glaschu
far bheil an lobhadh fàis,
agus air seòmar an Dùn Èideann,
seòmar bochdainn ’s cràidh,
far a bheil an naoidhean creuchdach
ri aonagraich gu bhàs.