SPUTNIK
Video:https://youtu.be/YysjzeaDB-A
A grapefruit moon hangs freshly minted
On the streets of my youth
I’m barefoot and wearing shorts
My world is full of goodness
There is the order in my universe
- my whole neighbourhood white -
Sundays I go to church
Where I sing and pray psalms.
There was a Sputnik in heaven
And the townships were illusionary
Was I innocent,
Does a child then have no shame?
The past is a different country
Across the Rubicon, on the other hand
Does my life look so complex
Does my life look so diverse?
The street light makes a funnel
Where millions of moths turn
We steal fruit from the neighbour
What (I suspect) can I guess
That the children in his dark garden
Is stealing his apricots.
But there are no fences around his house
No alarms that betray them.
There was a Sputnik in heaven
And the townships were not present
Was I innocent,
Does a child then have no shame?
Yesterday is a different country
Across the Rubicon, on the other hand
Does my life look so much more complex
Does my life look so diverse?
We hear someone shooting a president
But it’s far away and does not matter to us
I simply play with my Dinky toys
In a city I invent
Where everyone looks just like me
We are all Afrikaans
There are rules here in my town
It’s a world full of balance
There was a Sputnik in heaven
And the townships were forgotten
Was I innocent,
Does a child then have no conscience?
Yesterday is a different country
Across the Rubicon, on the other hand
Does my life look so complex
Does my life look so diverse
Authors Note: Life in South Africa, on the streets of my youth, was completely different from what it is today. Most of what is read in the Media and Press sketch a world of white people suppressing and killing black people under the “Apartheid” era and is completely blown up out of proportion. We did not know about the townships and that endless vision of shacks around cities which only appeared after 1994. Black politicians destroyed all the goodness (virtue) of South Africa and created a land rife with corruption and destruction. We never had racist white leaders promising to rid black people of their land and belongings by proverbially slowly boiling them so that they can not fight back before it is too late. The COVID-19 Relief money from the IMF and other sources are being stolen and the ANC Government ordered that no white people should receive any relief, including food.
My writing of this poem is a plea to the world and its democratic leaders to stop providing money and support to a racist Government and organise relief and funding using its own sources.
The English poem was translated from the Afrikaans poem composed by Coenie de Villiers, a well known Afrikaans writer and Poet.
SPOETNIK
Video:https://youtu.be/dQApT9lmwKE
A poem composed by Coenie De Villiers
‘n Pomelomaan hang varsgemunt
oor die strate van my jeug
Ek is kaalvoet en dra kortbroek
My wêreld is vol deug
Daar is orde in my heelal
– my ganse woonbuurt wit –
Sondae gaan ek kerk toe
Waar ek psalms sing en bid
Daar was ‘n Spoetnik in die hemel
En die townships was vergete
Was ek regtig so onskuldig,
Het ‘n kind dan geen gewete nie?
Die verlede is ‘n ander land
Oor die Rubicon, aan die ander kant
Lyk my lewe soveel anders
Lyk my lewe soveel anders
Die straatlig maak ‘n kegel
Waar miljoene motte draai
Ons steel vrugte by die buurman
Wat (vermoed ek) goed kan raai
Dat die kinders in sy donker tuin
sy appelkose skaai
Maar daar’s geen heinings om sy huis nie
Geen alarms wat verraai (nie)
Daar was ‘n Spoetnik in die hemel
En die townships was vergete
Was ek regtig so onskuldig,
Het ‘n kind dan geen gewete nie?
Die verlede is ‘n ander land
Oor die Rubicon, aan die ander kant
Lyk my lewe soveel anders
Lyk my lewe soveel anders
Ons hoor iemand skiet ‘n president
Maar dis ver en raak ons min
Ek speel eenvoudig met my Dinky toys
In ‘n stad wat ek versin
Waar almal net soos ek lyk
Ons is almal Afrikaans
Daar is reëls hier in my dorpie
Dis ‘n wêreld vol balans
Daar was ‘n Spoetnik in die hemel
En die townships was vergete
Was ek regtig so onskuldig,
Het ‘n kind dan geen gewete nie?
Die verlede is ‘n ander land
Oor die Rubicon, aan die ander kant
Lyk my lewe soveel anders
Lyk my lewe soveel anders
