Poem by the Afrikaans writer Wilma Stockenström

Creating

One day the creator held

his creation like a child a butterfly

in his hand, and quivering

the enamelled wings parted.

Wondrous the colours that glow as deities

glowed, open, shut, with great

display, the wings for day and night.

The creator still feels the small feet

delicately on his fingers and is astonished

at what he has been capable of: the unfolding

of an everything, gold-dust-covered light,

and as it is with creators, he

conceives, proud and humble, one more

one more such lovely, light-hearted butterfly,

repeatedly, for the sake of eternity.

To see the original poem, go to here.
There have been many revisions of this translation at the blogspot site - the latest, and perhaps most important, is that 'oopvou/van 'n al, goudstofoortrekte lig' would seem to contain two nouns, i.e. the word 'al' means a cosmos or universe and is not an adjective.