A poem by  Kim Hyesoon, translated from the Korean by Cindy Juyoung Ok


When spring comes again you will be one and seven
Seven to be born thirty
To be born in both Gyeongsang-do and Jeolla-do
Pile straw onto the intestines and organs and
as though thousands of Hong Gildongs appear daily
blooming perennially in that way
now white and cold
when becoming breathless
scissors at night
Inside our weary sleep we hold onto our hidden tails
Be instead the flailing scissors that sharpen
You, the boy who went and died alone



Kim Hyesoon & Cindy Juyoung Ok