Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Rutger Kopland

message from the isle of chaos

How long we have been here now, friends,
it was once meant to be a holiday
but what it is now.-

We saw the folder: Chaos, ladies and gentlemen,
Your island: the glossy photographs,
the bright blue bay of Chaos,
the chalk-white fishing village of Krisis.

We read that the island is praised for
its deep, deep quiet,
the last inhabitants are even
called happy under their plane tree.

We thought it was a joke
and went there, but whether it is so –
we sit on the quay
every day

and at our feet lies one of the dogs
every day, afraid we might be leaving.

We can see the Hagia Katastrophi
lying there at anchor, everything
being slowly shit white by the gulls,
lying there waiting for passengers.

How long by now, our story grows still
stranger the longer it lasts.

Should this message ever reach you
or should it not.

bericht van het eiland chaos

bericht van het eiland chaos

Hoe lang zijn we hier nu al, vrienden,
het was ooit bedoeld als vakantie,
maar wat het nu is -

We zagen de folder: Chaos, dames en heren,
Uw eiland; de glanzende foto\'s,
de helblauwe Chaotische baai,
het krijtwitte vissersdorp Krisis.

We lazen dat het eiland wordt geprezen
om zijn zeer diepe rust,
de laatste bewoners worden zelfs
gelukkig genoemd onder hun plataan.

Wij dachten dat het een grap was
en gingen er heen, maar of het zo is -
we zitten op de kade
iedere dag

en aan onze voeten ligt een van de honden
iedere dag, bang dat wij weggaan.

Wij zien hoe de Hagia Katastrophi
daar voor anker ligt, langzaam
helemaal wordt bescheten door de meeuwen,
ligt te wachten op passagiers.

Hoe lang al, onze geschiedenis wordt
hoe langer hoe vreemder.

Mocht dit bericht jullie ooit bereiken
of mocht dit niet zo zijn.
Close

message from the isle of chaos

How long we have been here now, friends,
it was once meant to be a holiday
but what it is now.-

We saw the folder: Chaos, ladies and gentlemen,
Your island: the glossy photographs,
the bright blue bay of Chaos,
the chalk-white fishing village of Krisis.

We read that the island is praised for
its deep, deep quiet,
the last inhabitants are even
called happy under their plane tree.

We thought it was a joke
and went there, but whether it is so –
we sit on the quay
every day

and at our feet lies one of the dogs
every day, afraid we might be leaving.

We can see the Hagia Katastrophi
lying there at anchor, everything
being slowly shit white by the gulls,
lying there waiting for passengers.

How long by now, our story grows still
stranger the longer it lasts.

Should this message ever reach you
or should it not.

message from the isle of chaos

How long we have been here now, friends,
it was once meant to be a holiday
but what it is now.-

We saw the folder: Chaos, ladies and gentlemen,
Your island: the glossy photographs,
the bright blue bay of Chaos,
the chalk-white fishing village of Krisis.

We read that the island is praised for
its deep, deep quiet,
the last inhabitants are even
called happy under their plane tree.

We thought it was a joke
and went there, but whether it is so –
we sit on the quay
every day

and at our feet lies one of the dogs
every day, afraid we might be leaving.

We can see the Hagia Katastrophi
lying there at anchor, everything
being slowly shit white by the gulls,
lying there waiting for passengers.

How long by now, our story grows still
stranger the longer it lasts.

Should this message ever reach you
or should it not.
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
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère