There was loud cheering and applause in the circus tent. The lion tamer closed the steel door of the cage behind her and turned to speak to the audience.

‘Thank you! Thank you!’ she shouted.

Bha caithream agus bualadh bhasan ann am pùball an t-siorcais.

Dhùin an smachdair-leòmhainn doras na cèidse stàilinn air a cùlaibh agus thionndaidh i ris an luchd-èisteachd. ‘Mòran, mòran taing!’ dh’èigh i.

I meet Robert at sunrise as he emerges from the bus at Montgarrie. He is wearing his usual brown suit, shirt, and tie. He has a hat but there is no sign of a coat, despite the morning chill. He has often said to me, ‘I don’t like coats. I prefer warm underwear. Don’t worry about me!’

Tha mi a’ coinneachadh ri Raibeart aig èirigh na grèine an dèidh dha tighinn far a’ bhus aig Mon Gairbheach. Mar as àbhaist, tha deise dhonn, lèine agus taidh air. Tha ad air ach chan eil sgeul air còta a dh’aindeoin fuachd na maidne. Bu tric a thuirt e rium, ‘Cha toigh leam còtaichean. ’S fheàrr leam fo-aodach blàth. Na bi fo chùram mu mo dheidhinn!’

The newspaper headlines saddened him. ‘Why can’t human beings learn from their mistakes?’ he asked himself. As if the answer to his question had risen from the depths, a boyhood memory came back to him …

Dh’fhàg an ceann-naidheachd fo bhròn e. ‘Carson nach ionnsaich an cinne-daonna le a mhearachdan?’ dh’fhaighnich e dheth fhèin. Mar gun robh freagairt air èirigh bho aigeann inntinn, thàinig cuimhne air ais thuige bho làithean òige ...

‘Till the next time,’ I said to myself. I was echoing the words my father used to say to me forty years ago standing on this same railway platform.

‘Gus an coinnich sinn a-rithist,’ thuirt mi rium fhìn. Bha mi ag aithris nam facal a chanadh m’ athair rium o chionn dà fhichead bliadhna, agus e na sheasamh air an dearbh àrd-ùrlar rèile seo.

We have all heard the advice before – not to store up treasure on earth where the moth and rust destroy and where a thief might break in and steal. But I would have to admit that I have my study …

Tha sinn uile air a’ chomhairle a chluinntinn – cha bu chòir dhuinn a bhith a’ tasgadh ionmhas air an talamh far an dèan an leòmann agus a’ mheirg sgrios agus far am faod mèirleach briseadh a-steach agus goid a dhèanamh. Ach dh’fheumainn aideachadh gu bheil seòmar-leughaidh agam …

I was walking in the wood when I heard the roar of the chainsaw. I saw two men rigged out in protective clothing and yellow plastic helmets – they were about to cut down one of the aspen trees. I raised my hand, and they stopped the motor of the saw.

Bha mi a’ coiseachd anns a’ choille nuair a chuala mi beucaich an t-sàibh-sèine. Chunnaic mi dithis fhear sgeadaichte ann an aodach-dìona agus clogaidean plastaig buidhe – bha iad a’ dol a leagail tè de na craobhan crithinn. Thog mi suas mo làmh agus chuir iad stad air motair an t-sàibh.

The old man was restless, walking back and forth in the kitchen.‘Somebody has killed a roe-deer,’ he said. ‘Did you see the carcase at the side of the road?’

Bha an seann duine an-fhoiseil, a’ coiseachd air ais ’s air adhart anns a’ chidsin. ‘Tha cuideigin air earb a mharbhadh,’ ars esan. ‘Am faca tu a’ chlosach ri taobh an rathaid?’

I saw you in the morning as I walked to primary school: soaring, twisting, dropping to earth like a stone.

Chunnaic mi thu anns a’ mhadainn fhad ’s a bha mi a’ coiseachd don bhun-sgoil: ag itealachadh gu h-àrd, a’ dol car air char, a’ tuiteam gu talamh mar chloich.

It is just a few minutes before midnight when the rabble breaks into the youth club. There is only one thing on their mind – destruction!

Tha e gu bhith meadhan-oidhche nuair a tha a’ ghràisg a’ briseadh a-steach don chlub òigridh. Chan eil ach aon smaoin air an inntinn – sgrios!

England 1885

When the two guards had left the room, there were only five of us remaining: myself, the prison governor, the medical officer, the executioner and the condemned man.

Sasainn 1885

Nuair a dh’fhàg an dithis fhreiceadan an seòmar, cha robh ach còignear againn ann: mi fhìn, riaghladair a’ phrìosain, an t-oifigear meidigeach, an crochadair agus am fear a bha gu bhith air a chur gu bàs.