translated from the Korean by Geul on the blog Cardiac Slaves of the Stars
(translated from the Korean by geul)
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Should a pair of doves take wing
Should a smoldering scent in the pinks be perceptible
It isn’t–is it–something all that memorable
It just suddenly comes to my mind
The day must have been just about to begin
You, like the others, about to arise
You may still well have been sleepless
That night of yours comes to my mind
Like the names of the flowers I love
Like the names of the streets that I love
Just like the names of all those whom I love
Your names come into my mind
So the comfortable bed shames itself perhaps
So a passionate kiss finds my thoughts in a lapse
As the touch of those fingers of yours through the gaps
In that metal grating comes to my mind
How many loves and friendships I have seen
Heroic deeds abounding in the tales of history
What’s most attune to the present though, is the dignity
Of your composure that always strikes my mind
Should a pair of doves take wing
Should a smoldering scent in the pinks be perceptible
It isn’t–is it–something that’s forgettable
Of itself it comes into my mind
translated by Jean Carpenter Efe
from Douglas Moore’s blog Art of Quotation
“Love your calling with passion, it is the meaning of your life”
Auguste Rodin, French, sculptor
what is left
of the streets I thundered through like a raging wind
of my youthful steps whose echoes are imprinted on the walls
what is left
in the ravishing summers where docile shadows swayed
the light that flowed through me like a legend
which darkness is it now pursuing in the cascade of the years
the lightning flashing distantly on my horizons
what does it now want to reveal of the beyond
which unanswerable questions in this endless inquiry
are reiterated unceasingly in the desolation of my life
in this blinding flood that may never end
yes, in truth, what is left
of my youthful steps whose echoes are imprinted on the walls
translated by Suat Karantay
no, my love, I will not spell out this song for you
with its aroma discarded, metamorphosed in riots
I have long since stamped my seal
put down my clumsy signature
on the most challenging part of life
and at every sunrise I have brushed my teeth
pressing life hard onto my flesh
–come on, pick up that comb that adores poems
and start the day by combing your hair
translated by Suat Karantay
Moon letters in the sand silence
shine on me with your hand to your heart
Diana dust-blown name Diana
souvenir, willows with white teeth
still cackling today–
it’s so still that all the fragrances
wriggle like cats.
translated by Julian Semilian
from Douglas Moore’s blog Art of Quotation
“We’re coming after every single one of you demanding that you make a change.”
Delaney Tarr, student and Parkland school survivor, to lawmakers and regarding gun legislation reform
Once again and once again
if only once again your eyes
could open, eyes could see
no need for lambs, for lambs
to slaughter, for martyrs
mothers, fathers, teachers
children once again
Do you listen? Can you hear?
Again and once again
do you need the darkness
hardened hearts, helpless
shrugs, no light to shine, no
light to shine once again?
Do you listen? Can you hear?
Once again and once again
they are children, they are ours
they are yours, they are
someone’s children once again
Again and never again, never
Columbine, Virginia Tech
Giffords and Aurora, Sandy Hook
Fort Hood, Charleston, Umpqua
San Bernadino, Pulse, Las Vegas
and now Parkland, once again
Once again and once again and
never again, help us, help us
they say, no more, but you say
they are only children, ones
who ran, ones who hid
Ones who will not run away
again, once again and again
Do you listen? Can you hear?
Do you feel again the need to run
the need to hide, a nod, a helpless
shrug, thoughts and prayers
you say, pretended sympathy
with eyes that do not see
that do not want to see
but your hands are open
eyes are open to money
over lives, power over heart
you run away once again
and again and again and
Never again, the children say
Never again once again
The grains burst from too much gold.
Scattered around red poppy drops–
girl in the field,
eyelashed as long as barley stalks,
gathers bundles of clear sky in her gaze
and sings.
I lie in the shadow of poppies
Without desires, needs, remorse.
I am flesh and dirt.
She sings.
I listen.
On her warm lips my soul is born.
translated by Andrei Codrescu
You arrived with sixteen gladioli
to pay respects to the dead.
Under my gaze, the colors live
a secret life.
For food we need only
beauty on a plate.
In the morning: saffron.
For lunch: violets with mussels.
In the evening: pollen from sixteen gladioli.
Food is love as yet unborn.
On the table, among your flowers,
the body of the Lord,
offering itself eternally to all.
translated by Adam J. Sorkin & Inger Johansson
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