The Magic of the Farming Days
In the quiet morning light I see
the deep oshanas breaking round
like a boundless oasis that is bright
and the echoes of the cattle happily resound.
Manna of the north is planted
and the mielies grow around the homestead
harrowed as the family toiled
the soil swallows the breeze of the drizzle ahead.
Oh, how peaceful northern life
its addictive memory is unerasable
as the sun tiptoes towards the West
and the herder's whistle resurges in the lovable forest.
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