Rutger Kopland
POEM ABOUT THE RIVER DRENTSE A
What we find beautiful, without cynicism, is
love and after love, the bar. There
we sit with our laughing faces, liking
each other, but we're only allowed to believe
that which is true, we laugh with our teeth, our hands
on the table, waiting for us
to carry them off. Sure, we'll definitely go
to the Drentse A again.
If only we had the courage to
talk about it, after all we saw
what horses do, how absent-mindedly the one
put his head over the other one's neck, how they bit
each other softly, walked as
if
they'd been
following each other for years without knowing it,
how they stood, up to their knees in the bogs,
bowing to the A.
This wasn ' t any new feeling today,
a feeling only meant for each other,
it was old and will stay, it didn't
leave when we did. I can't touch your hand,
your hand that says, You don't have to stay.
I'm looking at someone who isn't
here, not in this bar.
Translatedfrom the Dutch by Ria Leigh-Loohuizen
