Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Rutger Kopland

THE SURVEYOR

It isn’t mere indifference, in a certain sense
it is perhaps even love that drives him on,
there’s no paradise without its steward.

He is happy with his landscape, but even happier
with searching, co-ordinates point him to his invisible
spot, the map, not the world, is his Utopia.

He wants to know where he is, but it’s his consolation
to know that the spot where he is standing exists only
as his private formula, he is a hole in the shape of

a man in the landscape. With the boundaries that he draws,
sharper, more distinct, the grass and the trees grow
vaguer and everything that lives, declines and dies.

The world around him is perfectly clear, everything has been observed.

DE LANDMETER

DE LANDMETER

Het is niet alleen onverschilligheid, in zekere zin
is het misschien zelfs wel liefde die hem dwingt,
er is geen paradijs zonder rentmeester.

Hij is gelukkig met het landschap, maar gelukkig
met het zoeken, coördinaten wijzen hem zijn onzichtbare
plek, zijn utopie is de kaart, niet de wereld.

Hij wil weten waar hij is, maar zijn troost is
te weten dat de plek waar hij is niet anders bestaat
dan als zijn eigen formule, hij is een gat in de vorm van

een man in het landschap. Met de grenzen die hij
trekt, scherper en duidelijker, vervagen het gras
en de bomen en alles wat daar leeft, lijdt en sterft.

Het is heel helder om hem heen, alles is waargenomen.
Close

THE SURVEYOR

It isn’t mere indifference, in a certain sense
it is perhaps even love that drives him on,
there’s no paradise without its steward.

He is happy with his landscape, but even happier
with searching, co-ordinates point him to his invisible
spot, the map, not the world, is his Utopia.

He wants to know where he is, but it’s his consolation
to know that the spot where he is standing exists only
as his private formula, he is a hole in the shape of

a man in the landscape. With the boundaries that he draws,
sharper, more distinct, the grass and the trees grow
vaguer and everything that lives, declines and dies.

The world around him is perfectly clear, everything has been observed.

THE SURVEYOR

It isn’t mere indifference, in a certain sense
it is perhaps even love that drives him on,
there’s no paradise without its steward.

He is happy with his landscape, but even happier
with searching, co-ordinates point him to his invisible
spot, the map, not the world, is his Utopia.

He wants to know where he is, but it’s his consolation
to know that the spot where he is standing exists only
as his private formula, he is a hole in the shape of

a man in the landscape. With the boundaries that he draws,
sharper, more distinct, the grass and the trees grow
vaguer and everything that lives, declines and dies.

The world around him is perfectly clear, everything has been observed.
Sponsors
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
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère