An t-Eilean a dh’ fhàg mi Nuair dh’ fhàg mi Muile ‘s ann òg a bha mi ‘s chuir mi eòlas air iomadh àite Ach ‘s e mo dhùrachd ma tha ‘s an dàn dhomh Gun till mi rithist don eilean àghmhòr Ma bheir mi cuairt ann nam làithean saorsa Gu faic mi grinneas air gach taobh dhìom Na beanntan àrda ‘s na cluaintean fàsail ‘s e obair nàdair nach d’fhuair a chaomhnadh ‘S gun dh’fhalbh na daoine air an robh mi eòlach ‘s an diugh nan àite tha caochladh sheòrsa Chan fhaigh thu coibhneas no’ n càirdeas bàigheil Bha measg a’ mhuinntir tha ‘n diugh glè shàmhach Tha coilltean àlainn a’ fàs air slèibhtean Toirt àite còmhnaidh do eòin nan geugan Gur milis ceòlmhor tha guth gach creutair ‘s e chòisir bhinn ud a s’ fhiach a h-èisdeachd Tha sruthain ‘s alltan a’ ruith ‘s gach aonach Le uisge fìor-ghlan gu tràigh a’ taomadh Gur tric bhios iasgair le dubhan biadhte A’ deanamh dìcheall air iasg a thàladh Tha crodh is caoraich cur mais’ air raointean Tha gobhar ‘s fèidh ann gu h-àrd ri fhaotainn Tha fois is sìth anns gach cnoc is sìthean ‘s ann leam bu mhiann a bhith ann an còmhnaidh ‘S gun mhol na bàird thu am b’ aithne d’àilleachd ’s a sgrìobh a sios e an àireamh cànain Carson a bhithinn-sa cho tosdach sàmhach ‘s mo chomas briathran chuir ann am bàrdachd Le Calum Mac Dhiarmaid, Muile

The island I left When I left Mull, I was young And got to know many places But it is my wish if it is meant for me That I shall return to the lovely island If I take a trip there in my holidays I see beauty on every side The high hills and the lush pastures A work of nature that was not protected The people I knew have gone And in their place are different kinds You don’t get the kindness and friendliness That was in the people who are now very quiet Lovely woods grow on the slopes Giving a habitat to the birds The voice of each creature is sweet and musical That sweet choir is worth listening to Streams and rivers run on every moor With pure clean water running to the beach Often there is a fisherman with a baited hook Doing his best to attract fish Sheep and cattle add beauty to the plains There are goats and deer on the heights There is peace and quiet on every hill and mound It is I who would love to be living there The bards who knew your beauty praised you And wrote it down in a quantity of language Why would I be still and quiet When I have the ability to put it in poetry? By Calum MacDiarmid, Mull