Beneath the burning shadow,Moriti o tukago—an intense and heavy heat,
Reaching upward, stretching high,
To the bright, unyielding sky above it.
The hours bend, the light begins to bend,
Until it slowly bridges the bright noon
To the final grace of the setting sun,Ea sobela—as the brilliance starts to fade.
Nonyana soaring e lebile,
Rising upward, climbing high toward the mountain peak,Hlogo ya dithaba, where the rocks meet the sky.
The transition holds its breath,Phirimane—the deep, golden sunset,
The day giving way, bowing low to its evening.
Where the moon walks in quiet steps
Through the cool, moonlit darkness.
A powdery mist, mouwane, drifting slow,
Bleeding backward into the memory of the bright day.
Chasing the wind, phefo, across the ridges,
Lifting high to the clouds, seetsa,
Where the night settles, and the earth is still.