In the Field Filling Up with Snow

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

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In the Field Filling Up with Snow By Seo Jeong-ju

It’s   all   right,
It’s   all   right,
It’s   all   right,
It’s   all   right–
the snowflakes fall in heaps,
embracing even the sound of baby pheasants and quails
returning to their nests.

It’s   all   right,
It’s   all   right,
It’s   all   right,
It’s   all   right–
the snowflakes fall like fluffy cotton,
embracing even the sound of young girls with rosy cheeks
returning to their nests.

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The Snowy Night by Moon Tae-jun

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

moontaejunsnowannerashid

Photography by Anne Rashid

The Snowy Night by Moon Tae-jun

Oh, my lover
who had pure eyes;
oh, the silver scales
that occupied your eyes.
Tonight snow falls.
Oh, my poor lover
who wrapped my neck
with a white towel and washed my face,
a sacred quiet descends
upon the lonely planet.
I close my eyes
to remember the time
your hands washed my face.

눈 내리는 밤/ 문태준

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The Word of the Wind by Mah Jonggi

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Photography by Shawn Malone

Photography by Shawn Malone

The Word of the Wind by Mah Jonggi (1939-)

After all of us leave,
if my spirit passes by you,
don’t think even for a moment it is
the wind that sways the spring boughs.
Today I will plant a flower
on a corner of the shadow
where I got to know you;
when the flower grows to bloom,
all the distress that stemmed from our acquaintance
will turn into petals and fly away.

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The Leper by Seo Jung-ju

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Photography by Jung Beom-tae

Photography by Jung Beom-tae

The Leper by Seo Jung-ju (1915-2000)

The sunlight from the sky
filled the leper with sorrows.

He gobbled up a baby
when the moon rose over the barley field.*

All night he cried scarlet cries like flowers.

* There once was a myth in Korea that if lepers ate a baby’s liver, they would be cured.

문둥이/서정주

해와 하늘 빛이
문둥이는 서러워

보리밭에 달 뜨면
애기 하나 먹고

꽃처럼 붉은 우름을 밤새 우렀다

출전: “시인부락” (1936)

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The Flower by Kim Chun-soo

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Photography by Na Mari

Photography by Na Mari

The Flower by Kim Chun-soo (1922-2004)

Before I called her name,
she was nothing
more than a gesture.

When I called her name,
she came to me
and became a flower.

Like I called her name,
will someone please call my name
that suits my light and fragrance?
I, too, long to come to her
and become her flower.

We all long to be something.
You, to me, and I, to you,
long to become a gaze that won’t be forgotten.

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By the Winter River by Ahn Do-hyun

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

AhnDoHyunWinterRiver

By the Winter River by Ahn Do-hyun (1961- )

The river
took pity on the delicate snowflakes,
which jumped down into none other than the river water
and disappeared, melting shapelessly.
So, it tossed and turned,
to change its posture
before the snowflakes hit its water.
Every time it turned, the river water made a fierce sound.
Unknowingly,
the innocent snow fell endlessly,
and the river,
from the night before,
began to form thin ice, starting from its edge,
in order to save the snow with its own body.

겨울 강가에서–안도현

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Winter. Snow. Tree. Forest by Ki Hyung-do

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Photography by L. J. Sladek

Winter. Snow. Tree. Forest by Ki Hyung-do (1960-1989)

The snow
piles up here and there,
without being able to get all the way out of the forest.

“Is it you?
Don’t hurry.”
Thump. He falls down,
hit by a sharp blade.

I return home,
dragging the tree.
As I trim off the twigs,
I listen to the silence of the tree:
“I am here.
Death is unmasked life.
Our lives, our winters are like that, too.”

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Natasha, the White Donkey, and Me by Baek Seok

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Photography by Clayton Adams

Photography by Clayton Adams

Natasha, the White Donkey, and Me by Baek Seok (1912-1963)

Tonight the snow falls endlessly
because I, a poor man,
love the beautiful Natasha.

I love Natasha,
the snow falls endlessly,
and I sit alone, drinking rice wine.
Drinking rice wine, I think:

the night the snow falls endlessly
I would like to ride, with Natasha, upon a white donkey
to a remote, mournful mountain village and live in a cottage.

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The Salted Mackerel by Park Hoo-ki

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Photography by Lee Won-kyu

Photography by Lee Won-kyu

The Salted Mackerel* by Park Hoo-ki (1968- )

The night a poor father sleeps, embracing a pitiful son,
the night a child sleeps, dreaming of a dry blanket and a hot dish,
the night the big sorrow sleeps, embracing the small sorrow,
the night at the subway station the sleet rubs salt in the wound,
turning over the leaves of newspapers.

*The salted mackerel is one of the most common fish for the working class people in Korea.

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