The cranes are going down, dinkorofane tse telele di a theoga,
Thaba dihlomile, the steep peaks rise up so high,
Ziyabhukuda ngamanyathelo, they stir with their feet in the dust,
Die water kabbel af, slipping away under an African sky.
Go ina ganyane, they dip low, bending deep to the floor,
Ukuhlahlamola umhlaba, dismantling the iron and steel,
Hulle klim die berg to gather their strength once more,
Ephagama hale, a power so heavy and real.
Iza kusoga ka maoto, it turns to face the open sea,
Go beta moroba, striking a fierce, rhythmic beat,
Om te plant, om te trek, to sow and to pull, wild and free,
Ukulula imilenze, stretching their iron legs in the heat.