Muted purple cluarán buds surround me

In this cobblestoned city, 

Filled with history and memories 

Of those who walked here before me. 

My ancestors in kilts and corsets,

Once dancing around a ballroom

Or perhaps a couple in a perfect alleyway

Kissing under the moonlight. 

A volcano above, extinct and ancient,

How many people climbed up there? 

How many generations?

Height of Arrows, Ard-na Said, 

Possibly where Camelot once stood.

So many stories surround me—

Of loyalty and love,

Of devotion. 

Maybe we can make our own memories,

Stories we tell down the tree:

We can climb Arthur’s Seat,

Standing, in theory, where it all was;

We can dance under the moon,

Look at the vaulted Ceilings

Of St. Giles, hand-in-hand,

Admiring all of the beauty and history 

Here in Edinburgh.