Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Rutger Kopland

DEAD DOG

I let the dog die – there she lay
and I thought: where is she going now, where
will she stay. To understand death.

The body is sometimes seen as a nest
the temporary dwelling of an invisible
bird – an envoy of eternity.

I don’t see it that way. And yet when the dog died
what was it that I knew she was dying
as if her body was being vacated by something.

I can’t see it another way, this dead dog
is still alive and asking for me, the memory is
that strong, stronger than I.

But what loved me is gone, I dig a hole
lay what is left in it and fill it up.

The dog is nowhere, every day.

DODE HOND

DODE HOND

Ik heb de hond laten sterven – daar lag ze
en ik dacht: waar gaat ze nu heen waar
zal ze blijven. Om de dood te begrijpen.

Het lichaam wordt wel gezien als een nest
het tijdelijk verblijf van een onzichtbare
vogel – een afgezant van de eeuwigheid.

Zo zie ik het niet. En toch toen de hond stierf
wat gebeurde er toch dat ik wist dat ze stierf
alsof haar lichaam door iets werd verlaten.

Ik kan niet anders zien dan dat die dode hond
nog leeft en om mij vraagt, zo sterk is
de herinnering, sterker dan ik.

Maar wat van mij hield is weg, ik graaf een gat
leg wat er overbleef daarin en gooi het dicht.

De hond is nergens meer, iedere dag.
Close

DEAD DOG

I let the dog die – there she lay
and I thought: where is she going now, where
will she stay. To understand death.

The body is sometimes seen as a nest
the temporary dwelling of an invisible
bird – an envoy of eternity.

I don’t see it that way. And yet when the dog died
what was it that I knew she was dying
as if her body was being vacated by something.

I can’t see it another way, this dead dog
is still alive and asking for me, the memory is
that strong, stronger than I.

But what loved me is gone, I dig a hole
lay what is left in it and fill it up.

The dog is nowhere, every day.

DEAD DOG

I let the dog die – there she lay
and I thought: where is she going now, where
will she stay. To understand death.

The body is sometimes seen as a nest
the temporary dwelling of an invisible
bird – an envoy of eternity.

I don’t see it that way. And yet when the dog died
what was it that I knew she was dying
as if her body was being vacated by something.

I can’t see it another way, this dead dog
is still alive and asking for me, the memory is
that strong, stronger than I.

But what loved me is gone, I dig a hole
lay what is left in it and fill it up.

The dog is nowhere, every day.
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Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Hendrik Muller fonds
Lira fonds
J.E. Jurriaanse
Literature Translation Institute of Korea
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