We visited the Afrikaans monument in Paarl and thought of the following poem by ID du Plessis. I think it was written during the 1940's - the time when Afrikaans was the language of poor white people and it was spoken of as a "kombuistaal" (kitchen dialect).
The English translation by hubby following the Afrikaans :
Jy sê die stryd is verlore, - You say the struggle is lost,
Ons nasie te arm en klein, - Our nation too poor, too petite,
Ons taal uit 'n drang gebore, - Our language spurn from an urge
Wat een van die dae verdwyn? - that one of these days will seise/dissipate?
Ag vriend, dit mag heeltemal waar wees; - My friend, yes it may be quite true
Wie weet wat die toekoms gaan baar? - Who knows what the future will ensue?
Miskien moet ons oormore klaar wees - Maybe we ought to be finished tomorrow
Om weer hierdie droom te laat vaar. - to give this dream over to sorrow.
Maar as ons net altyd m0et strewe - However, if we must continually strive
Na wat tot oorwinning gaan lei, - to that which will help us survive,
Wat help dan die stryd van die lewe - What help is the struggle for life
Waarin ons onseker moet bly? - in which our uncertainty relive?
Solank jou bedoelings maar goed is, - as long as your intentions were good,
Gaan jy jou oor neerlae kwel? - will you tarry on your failures?
Solank jy volhard en vol moed is - as long as you persevere and keep faith -
Dis mos die probeerslag wat tel! - have endeavored is what matters!
Nee, soet is die stryd vir die stryer, - Nay, sweet is the struggle for him who dare,
Al moet hy uiteind'lik verloor - even if he eventually despair -
Maar die man wat sy deelname weier, - but the man who forsake his share
Is die man wat sy nasie vermoor. - is the one who kills his kin.
