O die dans van ons Suster!                                     Oh, the dance of our sister!
Eers oor die bergtop                                                  At first she peeps coyly

loer sy skelm,                                                               over the mountain top
en haar oge is skaam;                                               and her eyes are shy
en sy lag saggies.                                                        and she laughs softly.
En van ver af wink sy                                                 From afar she beckons

met die een hand;                                                       with one hand;
haar armbande blink                                                 her bracelets shimmer

en haar krale skitter;                                                  and her beads sparkle;
saggies roep sy.                                                            softly she calls
Sy vertel die winde                                                      she tells the winds

van die dans                                                                   about the dance
en sy nooi hulle uit,                                                     and she invites them,

want die werf is wyd                                                   for the backyard is vast

en die bruilof groot.                                                    and the wedding huge.
Die grootwild jaag                                                        The big game run

uit die vlakte,                                                                  out on the plains,
hulle dam op die bulttop,                                          they gather on the hilltop,
wyd rek hulle die neusgate                                       their nostrils dilate
en hulle sluk die wind;                                                and they swallow the wind;
en hulle buk,                                                                    and they stoop

om haar fyn spore                                                         to see her dainty tracks

op die sand te sien.                                                       on the sand.
Die kleinvolk                                                                    The little folk

diep onder die grond                                                    deep underground

hoor die sleep van haar voete,                                  hear the drag of her feet,
en hulle kruip nader                                                      and they inch nearer

en sing saggies:                                                                and sing softly:
'Ons Suster! Ons Suster!                                               'Our Sister! Our Sister!

Jy het gekom! Jy het gekom!                                     'You have come! You have come!'
En haar krale skud,                                                         And her beads bounce
en haar koperringe blink                                              and her copper hoops flash

in die wegraak van die son.                                          in the drop of the sun.
Op haar voorkop is die                                                   On her forehead is the

vuurpluim van                                                                    fiery plume of

die berggier;                                                                        the mountain falcon;
sy trap af van die hoogte;                                               she steps down from the plateau
sy sprei die vaalkaros                                                      she spreads the gray pelt

met altwee arms uit;                                                         wide with both arms,
die asem van die wind raak weg.                                 the breath of the wind grows quiet.
O, die dans van ons Suster!                                            Oh, the dance of our sister!

translation by seasofme231012geckojig

one of my absolute favourite afrikaans poems.

robert ardrey wrote in the introduction to the soul of the ape (the only one of eugene marais' books which was published in english):

He was a man courtly - gentlemanly in every oldtime ecstatic sense. His charm was something that contemporaries who outlived him recall with yearning...he was a poet with no eternal page to write upon. As a scientist he was unique, supreme in his time, yet a worker in a science then unborn... a human community in the person of one man. He was a poet, an advocate, a journalist, a story-teller, a drug addict, a psychologist, a natural scientist.