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Die vlakhaas spits sy oor
hy het die donderweer gehoor
skilpad loer ook uit sy dop.
Wildsbok lig en draai sy kop –
sy neusgat vleuel soos hy die reënlug snuif
daar gaan ñ rilling deur sy lyf
sy stert staan kuif.
The rabbit lifts his ear
he has heard the thunder
tortoise also peaks out his shell
The wild buck lifts and turns his head -
his nose flares as he smells the rain-filled air
a shiver goes through his body
his tail stands rigid
Die donderweerswolke maak ñ donker sluier
en die voorwind dwarrel en kuier
hier en daar, van wie weet waar
kielie ñ graspol en ritsel ñ blaar.
Die eerste druppels val met sware plof
in die dorre verpoeierde stof –
dit maak ñ wasem op die klip
en laat die sandtjies dans en wip.
Water drup van die klip se rand
in die dorstige rooi-rooi sand.
The thunderclouds make a dark slur
and the fore-wind tornadoes and visits
here and there, from who knows where
a grass is tickling and a leaf scurrying.
The first drops fall with heavily, explosively
in the dull powdered dust -
it makes a haze on the rock
and makes the sand particles dance and whip
Water drips from the rock’s edge
in the thirsty red-red sand.
Namakwaland
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