Scottish Ballad

I’m Scottish and I wear a kilt,
but why I feel such shame and guilt?
My kilt is red, for me – it’s grey,
and so is every night and day.
I hate myself, I want to die,
I’m all in pain. I wonder, why?
One day I went to doctors’, dressed
in rugs. They looked and said: “Depressed”.
So that I shouldn’t wear rugs –
they gave me lots and lots of drugs.
They said I needed urgent rest.
I left – in rugs, with drugs, depressed.
My poor head was bent so low,
just like my mood. I walked so slow…
At home I shaved, put on my kilt…
Took all the tablets. I was killed.
I saw the tunnel and the Light –
much brighter than my inner night,
and stronger than my rainy days.
I flew to it in milky haze.
It flew to me – a huge white Dove,
it radiated Light and Love.
What happened then – I cannot tell.
Behold, I was no more unwell!
Then I descended onto Earth –
I was so sure: life is worth!
I found my body in the kilt
(on fluffy tartans of a quilt).
My soul with sharpness of a knife
then blew in my dead body – life.
And full of strength – so fresh and wild
I stretched my arms, took breath and smiled.
* * *
Since then my kilt is red again,
I see the sun through pissing rain.

Since then I feel so truly well –
I’m drinking love from Heaven’s well.
And every night and every day –
for brightness of my kilt I pray.

And now I know – I’m truly blessed:
I’m happy! I’m no more depressed!