Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Rutger Kopland

MOTHER AND SON

There is a pond somewhere, Ovid writes,
that once was a mother
“she melted away in tears”, grieving
for her son, whom she thought was dead

yet he was alive – he had sought death
by jumping from a rock, but didn’t fall,
in Ovid’s words: “floating upon the air he
became a white-feathered swan”.

These things happened then – sometimes
reality was so unbearable
that something impossible happened.

This is all we know: mother and son
reunited – you can imagine seeing a white swan
cradled by a pond and you wonder:
is the bird aware of the water’s grief
and is the water aware who it cradles.

MOEDER EN ZOON

MOEDER EN ZOON

Er is ergens een vijver, schrijft Ovidius,
die ooit een moeder is geweest
‘zij smolt weg in tranen’, rouwend
om haar dood gewaande zoon

maar hij leefde nog – hij had de dood gezocht
door van een rots te springen, maar hij viel niet,
in de woorden van Ovidius: ‘zwevend werd hij
in de lucht een zwaan met witte veren’.

Die dingen gebeurden toen – soms was
de werkelijkheid zo ondraaglijk
dat er gebeurde wat niet kon.

Dit is alles wat wij weten: moeder en zoon
herenigd – je ziet in gedachten hoe een witte zwaan
wordt gewiegd door een vijver en je vraagt:
zou die vogel de rouw kennen van het water
en zou het water weten wie het wiegt.
Close

MOTHER AND SON

There is a pond somewhere, Ovid writes,
that once was a mother
“she melted away in tears”, grieving
for her son, whom she thought was dead

yet he was alive – he had sought death
by jumping from a rock, but didn’t fall,
in Ovid’s words: “floating upon the air he
became a white-feathered swan”.

These things happened then – sometimes
reality was so unbearable
that something impossible happened.

This is all we know: mother and son
reunited – you can imagine seeing a white swan
cradled by a pond and you wonder:
is the bird aware of the water’s grief
and is the water aware who it cradles.

MOTHER AND SON

There is a pond somewhere, Ovid writes,
that once was a mother
“she melted away in tears”, grieving
for her son, whom she thought was dead

yet he was alive – he had sought death
by jumping from a rock, but didn’t fall,
in Ovid’s words: “floating upon the air he
became a white-feathered swan”.

These things happened then – sometimes
reality was so unbearable
that something impossible happened.

This is all we know: mother and son
reunited – you can imagine seeing a white swan
cradled by a pond and you wonder:
is the bird aware of the water’s grief
and is the water aware who it cradles.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
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