Do You Remember Me?

It was in the Year of White Clover,
When I first saw you,
Standing with little white flowers
Up to your ankles,
Among the Pinotage at Paarl,

The vines had accepted both
You and the clover,
As I watched your face
Rise and fall
Above the canopy
Like the Sun
That seemed to rise and fall with you,

I could never tell
As you stood there with
Your picking basket
If you were thinking of me
Or of the flowers
That caressed your feet,
The vines that stroked your hands,
As you took from them
The fruit that would become wine,

The Afrikaner did not know you
As I did,
A proud Zulu princess,
Only as a means
To further their business,
That they had developed
On our homeland,

The Afrikaner did not know me
As you did,
A proud Zulu warrior,
Until I challenged the overseer,
He took me down with one shot,
You covered me with your shawl,
Watching my blood flow,
Turning the White Clover red,
My River of Blood
Flowing into the roots of the vine.