At the foot of the mountain,
Lies a village that is the fountain.
I have gulped milk of the goats of this mountain with no conscience.
I was just a child with no sense of justice.
On the top of the river Sidubi
Flows the banks where I used to play the oxen inkunzi uBim,
This is where I used to imagine and imitate my fathers bull Ubhayizani.
Our eyes were red because of river water we played in with no fear of malaria.
Just at the knee of Qamata irrigation scheme is where I trace,
flowing of the furrows that irrigate our fields.
The same fields that produce enough corn feeding our people.
The size of the rich corn is the size of a herd boy’s stomach.
My imagination will always gulp on the indulgences of my childhood
I will always steal the corn on my imagination good for my own good.
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