Eastern Transvaal
Against the edge of the kopje a homestead is standing
with a pretty garden in contrast to the red-brown dust,
a place of rest grounded on the expertise of the farmer,
displaying his handiwork.
When thunder falls above on the top of the hillock
he sits at ease with a pipe in his mouth,
at his feet his darling pedigree dog lies
and they smell the fragrance of the rain that is showering down
while the eyes of the farmer wanders over the hillock
where aloes, sugar bushes and wild plums grow in abundance
next to the dense cornfield that stretches green into the distance,
the blessings from God showers down everywhere
and everything that farmer owns multiplies
as if the hand of God covers his life mightily.
[After Elisabeth Eybers/Reference: Wes-Transvaal (Western Transvaal) by Elisabeth Eybers.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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