Vir die wil van beter woorde

Want dit is meer as net 'n boks, dit is die stemme van 'n duisend
Figures carved from the hands of history,
dance on ages past
It is a thousand words whispered through its wood.
They speak of blood and brotherhood,
Pride and prejudice.
Dark oak shines like polished amber,
Describing the untamed beauty of South Africa.
Hard plains, worn people, exotic animals.
Nostalgia rolls like unforgiving waves
Endless and tireless in their attack
It reminds me of a mother’s warm embrace,
It reminds me of her loving face,
Her unfailing devotion and limitless strength.
This wooden box bears my memories
The rich smell of spices and the taste of foreign food.
A wooden box is the reminder of a thousand voices,
Dark wood stretches like plains of green and gold
Empty or full of memories, bright and vivid?
Want dit is meer as net 'n boks, dit is die stemme van 'n duisend