This a straight-up Google translation of Antjie Krog's poem about Mandela, written in Afrikans. The original is here.
Krog is a South African poet who, among other things, covered the work of South Africa's Truth and Reconciliation Commission for the South African Broadcasting Corporation. Country of My Skull: Guilt, Sorrow, and the Limits of Forgiveness in the New South Africa
underground a ridge moved
Earth stumble
confused tottering sun
When his breath left him in the night
the stars geduisel
because everything is intertwined
throttling to death
His death and death alone
once everything is sad
as if we were in a big shadow standing
if we break through glass
if we splinter into stone
as if our minds in whispering groups around desperate flight
like spears into the ground stuck
vibratory
at Qunu refused this morning to the herds of the family to go
Lusikisiki to lay the fish close to the surface
in Mvezo bustards make no sound
the thought of Mandela let's interiors break
(We wanted his dying body see)
we can not even open the mouth
(We wanted his dying body see)
to start talking about his death to discuss his works
(We wanted his dying body see)
his blood which dart like a leopard for justice
(We wanted his dying body see)
to tell of his works, his incredibly soft power
(We wanted his dying body see)
the lovely flowering seams of his skull forgiving
(We wanted his dying body see)
the battering ram of his tongue
that futures to an associated nuclear wring
we can not do justice to our great
(We wanted his dying body see)
we do not see
in the walkways on the sidewalks, in bushes along the roads
bundle together our silence, we gewones
We sprinkle our tears over him
We sprinkled the legacy
the Fearless Warrior we once ruled
We sprinkled the body that need to be washed
We sprinkled the blood of Mandela opened
gewones we were not with water but with songs
grudgingly we take his body
we had it, we bathe them
with hands that loved him, we get to his deeds
we give him, from hand to hand
high above our heads
the man we saved ourselves
o singing blood of the son of uNosekeni
o palms of Mvezo with stars and rain to the shores
o Qunu arms of a country's deepest wounds embrace
Great Aanmekaarbinder
nobody's larynx could Mandela's song End of singing
nobody ever deglaze our Great Saambinder for us
no one surpassed him in moral authority
no leader is ever so his people loved not
he is our best face wash
he that we ourselves gave it back
the embodiment of the world's desire
to someone who cares
whose acts unashamedly goodness would bring
beloved Mandela, bring blessing to us, your children
let your life his fingerprint on all of us
it will be long before we ever a man so noble
someone as stubborn and healing nicely
tough by nature so strict principle of including
so elegant and astoundingly heart of our mortal arms can hold
- Antjie Krog
(Based on the lament written for Moshoeshoe 1, "LITHOKHOKISO le tse tsa Moshoeshoe up" by David Cranmer Theko Bereng.)