A Sand Woman (9)
From inside sand a woman was lifted up―
she was intact, not even a hair damaged
After his departure she hadn't slept or eaten, it was said―
though she kept her eyes closed,
and wasn't breathing,
she wasn't dead
People came and took her away―
they undressed her, immersed her in salt water, parted her legs,
cut her hair, opened her chest, I was told
Though they said he had died at the battlefield
and even though the country she left was far away,
the woman held her breath
and didn't release it into the world―
though knife blades went in and out of her body, she would not open her eyes.
They sewed her up again and laid her down inside a glass case―
he, whom she had been awaiting, didn't come, but from four corners fingers pressed in
Every day I looked down vacantly
on two hands they laid out on paper―
after they lifted up the woman hidden inside sand,
I wanted to escape far away from here on a camel
In every dream the woman followed me
and opened her closed eyes like a flash―
the insides of her eyelids were wider and deeper than the desert's night sky
A Woman with Red Scissors (16)
A woman walks out of the obstetrics clinic―
beside her an older woman holds a new baby
The woman's two legs look like scissors―
she walks on them, snipping away upon the snow covered road
but the scissors' blades are mushy like plump dark clouds
Last night lifting up the two blades, she screamed―
what did she cut off
from between her two legs
where the fishy sunset glow poured down?
The morning after a snow storm, the sky rips apart again and again
A flash of light, so bright that it chills your eyes,
follows after the tottering woman
The blinding heaven's top opens and closes
How much was God frightened
when the woman who ate up all the fruits of the tree He nurtured
cut off red bodies
one by one from between her two legs?
The wound of the sky that opens up every morning―
one red head is carved
from between the cloud's plump two red legs
(Whether the blood lives in me)
(Whether I live in the blood)
The woman walks on ahead over there―
she walks on,
tearing the cold shadow with her hot body
Inside the mirror, her body, white like a snow,
a wave of sticky crimson blood splashes slowly―
the new babies are swimming
like a morning sea full of fish.
Onion (21)
A man peeled off a woman's shell under a faucet―
like an onion, her crackling shell came off easily
After a layer of dark night, a clear day arose
Like the tender insides of a fresh egg,
her blood was drained out
"Don't, don't! Why are you doing this?" I cried out
When days get all drained out, nights, tasting sad and hot, rise up
Over tens of thousands of years, day and night repeat this cycle
The woman comes off quickly, easily―
the man who peeled her cried because it hurt his eyes, the woman did the same
Ah, but nevertheless, today has gone and night has come
But where has she been? Where have the layers of hot shell been hidden?
I ask again and again, looking back at the woman's body again
The man, crying again and again, peeled off the woman's shell,
peeled it all the way like an onion
She is not there, the person she called herself―
where has she been hiding with all the hot layers peeled away?
The night only quivers, hiding under the floor―
the sea beyond dresses and undresses incessantly
It was hot in summer, and cold in winter, all have flown away―
isn't it the most beautiful story in the world?
Water in Your Eyes (66)
When I wake up in the morning and sing sad melodies
water in the cup saddens, water in the toilet bowl saddens,
water in the flower vase, which was trickling up flower stalks, saddens,
water inside of the faucet patiently holding a mouthful of water
saddens, too
When you watch the birds outside the window,
don't say they are flying up
because I am falling, and again falling, and falling still
because I am riding on the earth that keeps falling
from high in the air
The running water washes its body as it runs
but this sad music stagnates inside my body
It can't even run out―
the overflow stopper cries and the pipes below cry
I am a body born to run on,
a body born to be the water inside of your body
I don't care if there's no horizon; even if there's no land to stand on,
as long as I can keep on running
in a deep place inside your body― I will not rest, or overflow, or whisper,
if I can be the body born to look at you patiently, the water inside your eyes.
Where has this sad music come from?
Why does it keep pouring over my rotten body?
Why does it make water in my cup cry, make water in my flower vase cry?
Water rises, filling the Han River bank―
not a single street sign can be seen
below, deep below the river bottom,
the sound of cold water running through caves in the bowels of the earth
The ceiling shaking the pillars gets wet,
pots rust― with two eyes wide open,
I push my chest out
I have to get out still holding my breath; I must preserve myself so I don't rot away--
when I find a key, I will get out of here.
Red Sunset Glow (102)
1
On the floor grand white reliefs are spread―
I look down from the airplane upon Everest
It's like flying over the paintings someone has hung
After all, all the mountains and oceans, plains and cities―
are all reliefs
Nobody can escape from above these reliefs
A red feathered mouse is hovering above this all white relief―
it must be looking for someone
2
A woman sitting in a white bathtub cries―
red spots break out all over her body
Even if she splashes the water, it's useless
Even if she pours cold water into the bathtub later, it's useless
Even on the bathtub the red spots break out
The woman becomes one with the all-white bathtub
From the bathtub, and also from the woman's body, sticky red flowers break out
Later the red spots break out upon the white bathroom tiles
3
On the airplane a young woman speaks to an old woman
feeling like an insignificant being who picks up grains
that fell through gravel on this earth, a peripheral corner of the universe
The old woman answers,
wouldn't one get sick since the grain becomes blood?
looking like a beggar
Even the young girl
All together
Look like a beggar
4
On the ceiling of my skull a relief tangles with white clouds,
shoots at the all-white reliefs floating in the air
The shot aims with precise time
as when the clock's hands shoot the menstrual sack―
a red feathered mouse hidden in the relief explodes
Above the eyebrows of the two women who are shooting lying down,
a red pond trickles down―
a life stuck between reliefs cascades with blood
5
I can't walk because the ground is hurting
I can't breathe because the sky is painful
I can't live on the blood
in this hurting body
The Himalayas Speak (109)
Look, they are deep-sea fish―
their feet fixed to the ground their entire life
For them, being born means falling deep,
falling down to the bottom their whole life
Look, they are deep-sea fish-
look at the bodies stuck to the bottom,
as if etched in an engraving―
they are dark, not even a drop of light rises
out of them
Look at the dark masses rolled up with loneliness―
the water pressure must be awful
A woman climbs up with her backpack―
her panting lips will not close
Look, I lost my ring in the deep sea
A meteor falls and strikes the deep sea
In the deep dark sea, my feet can't touch the bottom
my heart floating above the surface is flip-flopping
Once things float by they will not return
Look, there far below the horizon―
the woman is climbing up with her backpack
On her white pants the sunset glows―
waves of blood splash on and off of her
Only when they die do the deep-sea fish lift from the bottom