(after Guy Butler)
On the sandstone veranda I saw him
withered, old,
the master of thousands of acres of veldt,
it was quite cold
that early morning and through seasons of rain, drought
he stood quite bold;
a world of summers, winters he did love,
from an earth of grey shale he could not move.
[Reference: "Farmer" by Guy Butler.]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem