They reside on the other side.
They bathe in fertility.
They own yard-keepers and servants;
Dogs, cats and charming plants.
They breathe the camphorated air like us,
Swallow the transparent dust,
Cross over and fall in the muddy rivers
Like our brothers living under the tiny tents.
They reside on the other side of town,
Over the mountains.
They bathe in tranquil fertility
Of the country-side.
They ignore that we are the same
And that we live daily the same dilemmas.
One day, them and us, all of us will answer
Present in the river, under the bridge.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thank you, Herbert. You have put across the scourge of Apartheid in the right perspective. But the question is- Are we free from it or from the curse of racism of one kind or the other? Has the world been reformed after so many years and so much ground work done?