This reminded me of a very old traditional piece...here you go I gonna share this in my Language....not my own work but I am sure it would be okay if I shat this!! One we had to learn in school!!
Die ossewa
Die osse stap aan deur die stowwe,
geduldig, gedienstig, gedwee;
die jukke, al drukkend hun skowwe -
hul dra dit getroos en tevree.
En stille, al stuiwend en stampend,
kom stadig die wa agterna -
die dowwe rooi stowwe, al dampend,
tersy op die windjie gedra.
Die middagson brand op die koppe,
gebuk in hul beurende krag;
hul swaai heen en weer in die stroppe -
en ver is die tog van die dag.
Dit kraak deur die brekende brokke:
die opdraans is ver en is swaar;
die knars in die knakkende knokke,
maar hul beur, en die vrag bring hul daar.
So, stom tot die stond van hul sterwe,
blyf ieder 'n held van die daad...
Hul bene, na swoeë en swerwe,
lê ver op die velde verlaat.
The strength of the cart relies in the firm structure of it's body. In the heart...the engine always is more versatile than any one could ever guess. Whether body, heart, cart or soul the power is in the drive.
Love your work.
Susan
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on December 27, 2007
Yes indeed, we all have to roll our own cart over the unpaved roads or the slick thruways of life . . . Sometimes the wheels may creak and wobble, but the cart must not stop its forward progress . . .
Because we have an opportunity to choose our attitude and focus our intentions in the present moment, the world and our own personal lives are a reflection of our thoughts. It is our 360 degree review on how we think. Put simply, our job is to fully
It unites spiritual wisdom from the East and West to help readers experience Christ consciousness in the here and now. Combining the Oneness teachings of India with a fresh look at the New Testament.
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Ron
Die ossewa
Die osse stap aan deur die stowwe,
geduldig, gedienstig, gedwee;
die jukke, al drukkend hun skowwe -
hul dra dit getroos en tevree.
En stille, al stuiwend en stampend,
kom stadig die wa agterna -
die dowwe rooi stowwe, al dampend,
tersy op die windjie gedra.
Die middagson brand op die koppe,
gebuk in hul beurende krag;
hul swaai heen en weer in die stroppe -
en ver is die tog van die dag.
Dit kraak deur die brekende brokke:
die opdraans is ver en is swaar;
die knars in die knakkende knokke,
maar hul beur, en die vrag bring hul daar.
So, stom tot die stond van hul sterwe,
blyf ieder 'n held van die daad...
Hul bene, na swoeë en swerwe,
lê ver op die velde verlaat.
Jan François Elias Celliers (1865-1940)
Fee
Love your work.
Susan