I'm on a small Kopland jag here with many, many thoughts, but not much time. So in the meantime, a short poem of his. We'll talk horses and different translations later.
I can take it all,
the withering of beans,
flowers dying, with dry
eyes I can see the potatoes being
dug up, when it comes
to those, I'm really tough.
But young lettuce in September,
just planted, still limp,
in little moist beds, no.
(Rutger Kopland, An Empty Place to Stay, Twin Peaks Press, 1977, translated by Ria Lei-Loohuizen.)