The Highveld
“In the Highveld, where it is open and heaven full above,
Where windswept flocks of grass dance over the green,
Where one can still breathe freely and understand God,
Endures my house, which I had to leave for livelihood.
And here I daydream in the corridors of the mine
Of the flurries on the Highveld, spacious and free,
Then I hear the noise of my prod, saddle, and bridle,
In the evenings when I drive a cow or sheep.
On the Highveld, where it is abundant,
where you can see pretty far,
(The sensation of the pale blue sky obstruct your throat)
Remain my house and wait for me, wait a year or ten,
Where impala plays on the slatestone graves.
But when the phthisis gets worse, and I hear the last whistle blow,
Then I head to the Highveld on the wings of my mind
In the moonlight, I seek out all the most beautiful places.
I made clay oxen as a child.
“ Author: Toon Vd Heever.”
Translated from Afrikaans: Mattheus Frederik
