Mill of Edinvillie: a study of a poem in two tongues

This poem was originally written in English in the 1980s as a memory of my childhood visits to my Auntie Jeannie's farm at Aberlour in Banffshire. It came to me to turn it over into Scots - to owreset or transcreate it. The Scots version was published in The New Makars.
I've let people read the two versions and they tend to like the Scots one more. I feel my memories spread across the two poems, like a left and right hand, an ambidextrous remembering. What do you think?

Mill Of Edinvillie

Hill browed rain:
furrowing downcasts
of peak in trough,
sky in rut.

Smoked out beehives:
honeycombs clutter
the tilt of a barn;
puddles glazy with nectar,
pocked in drowned wasps.

Coal yards fuse
their splutter black
in gutterings of grain,
diamond wooded facets
spun in sooty saps of flame.

Log yards stub
their shaggy bark
in cloven feet of pine,
crying amber lumber
whisky tanged in malty brine.

Straw stuck eggs:
pantry soft butter
on heel ends of toast;
oatcake peppered stovies,
steamed on soup plates.

Lampless twilight:
animal settling
of sheep in shade,
star in glen.