Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Kim Hyesoon

DON’T Day Forty-Nine

The warm buoyant breaths don’t miss you
The winds that have left for reincarnation before you, that brush against the
    lips of your childhood don’t miss you

The winter, the woman’s ice-heart, dead from sickness, drifting away in the
infinite blue sky
with thin needles stuck all over it doesn’t miss you

The leaves blow away, leaving their prints on the frozen river and

the one-hundred, two-hundred-story high buildings crumble all at once and

the spectacles with spectacles, shoes with shoes, lips with lips, eyebrows with
    eyebrows, footprints with footprints swept into a huge drawer don’t miss     you

The river is frozen eighty centimeters deep, a tank passes over it, and the fish
    beneath the ice don’t miss you

The dog tied to the electric pole in front of the tobacco shop for fourteen years
doesn’t miss you

While the big wind takes away thousands of women dead from madness

the sound of the “you’s” of your whole life, your hair falling

all of the winter landscape, wailing and wielding its whip doesn’t miss you

Thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions of snow flurries don’t miss you

Don’t descend all over the world, howling, murmuring, searching for your
    snowman-like body buried in the snow, don’t miss you and say love you or     whatever as if unfolding a beautifully folded letter

Don’t miss you just because you’re not you and I’m the one who’s really you

Don’t miss you as you write and write for forty-nine days with an inkless pen



JOU NIET dag negenenveertig

een warme adem drijvend in de lucht mist jou niet
de zacht de lippen beroerende wind uit je jeugd die ter wedergeboorte eerder vertrok dan jij mist jou niet

de winter waarin zij bij het vervlieten van de grenzeloze blauwe hemel stierf van pijn,
want in het ijzige hart van de vrouw volop fijne naalden, mist jou niet

terwijl op de dichtgevroren rivier gevallen bladeren volop hun vingerafdrukken achterlaten

terwijl gebouwen van honderd tweehonderd verdiepingen in een keer instorten

terwijl de brillen onder elkaar de schoenen onder elkaar de lippen onder elkaar
de wimpers onder elkaar de voetsporen onder elkaar een enorme lade in gespoeld worden, mist jou niet

tot tachtig centimeter diepte vriest de rivier dicht, eroverheen passeert een tank, onder dat ijs de vissen, ze missen jou niet

voor de tabakszaak aan de elektriciteitspaal een hond veertien jaar lang vastgebonden, hij mist jou niet

de enorme wind vliegt ervandoor met duizenden van waanzin gestorven vrouwen

het ginnegappen van de jijen uit jouw hele leven, de neer gutsende haren

het hele winterse landschap huilt wanhopig zwiept met de zweep, mist jou niet

al vallen er duizenden tienduizenden sneeuwvlokken, ze missen je niet

dalen neer over de hele wereld, ze lamenteren, snateren, houden op te zoeken naar je lichaam als een in de sneeuw begraven sneeuwpop, houden van je als het openen van een mooi samengevouwen brief, nou ja, soms, missen je niet

ik mis jou niet, want jij bent niet jij en ik ben precies jij

neem de pen ter hand waarmee zo’n negenenveertig dagen lang niet werd geschreven en schrijven maar en schrijven, mis jou niet.

마요 마흔아흐레

공중에 떠가는 따스한 입김 하나가 너를 그리워 마요
너보다 먼저 윤회하러 떠난 네 어릴 적 그 입술에 살랑 닿는 바람이 너를 그리워 마요

무한 창공 떠가는 아파서 죽은 그 겨울 그 여자의 얼음심장에
가느다란 바늘이 가득 꽂히면서 너를 그리워 마요

떨어진 이파리들이 언 강물 위에 지문을 가득 붙여가면서

1백 층 2백 층 건물이 일시에 무너져 내리면서

안경은 안경끼리 신발은 신발끼리 입술은 입술끼리
눈썹은 눈썹끼리 발자국은 발자국끼리 커다란 서랍 속으로 쓸려가면서 너를 그리워 마요

80센티미터로 강물이 얼어붙고, 그 위로 탱크가 지나가고, 그 얼음 밑에서 물고기들이 너를 그리워 마요

담배 가게 앞에 14년째 전봇대에 묶인 개가 너를 그리워 마요

커다란 바람이 미쳐서 죽은 여자 수천 명을 데리고 날아가는데

네 일생의 ‘너’들이 웃어젖히는 소리, 쏟아지는 머리칼

겨울 풍경 전체가 울며불며 회초리를 휘두르며 너를 그리워 마요

눈발이 수천 개 수만 개 수억만 개 쏟아지며 너를 그리워 마요
온 세상에 내려앉아서 울며불며 수런거리며 눈 속에 파묻힌 눈사람 같은 네 몸을 찾지 마요, 예쁘게 접은 편지를 펴듯 사랑한다 어쩐다 너를 그리워 마요

너는 네가 아니고 내가 바로 너라고 너를 그리워 마요

49일 동안이나 써지지 않는 펜을 들고 적으며 적으며 너를 그리워 마요


Close

DON’T Day Forty-Nine

The warm buoyant breaths don’t miss you
The winds that have left for reincarnation before you, that brush against the
    lips of your childhood don’t miss you

The winter, the woman’s ice-heart, dead from sickness, drifting away in the
infinite blue sky
with thin needles stuck all over it doesn’t miss you

The leaves blow away, leaving their prints on the frozen river and

the one-hundred, two-hundred-story high buildings crumble all at once and

the spectacles with spectacles, shoes with shoes, lips with lips, eyebrows with
    eyebrows, footprints with footprints swept into a huge drawer don’t miss     you

The river is frozen eighty centimeters deep, a tank passes over it, and the fish
    beneath the ice don’t miss you

The dog tied to the electric pole in front of the tobacco shop for fourteen years
doesn’t miss you

While the big wind takes away thousands of women dead from madness

the sound of the “you’s” of your whole life, your hair falling

all of the winter landscape, wailing and wielding its whip doesn’t miss you

Thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions of snow flurries don’t miss you

Don’t descend all over the world, howling, murmuring, searching for your
    snowman-like body buried in the snow, don’t miss you and say love you or     whatever as if unfolding a beautifully folded letter

Don’t miss you just because you’re not you and I’m the one who’s really you

Don’t miss you as you write and write for forty-nine days with an inkless pen



DON’T Day Forty-Nine

The warm buoyant breaths don’t miss you
The winds that have left for reincarnation before you, that brush against the
    lips of your childhood don’t miss you

The winter, the woman’s ice-heart, dead from sickness, drifting away in the
infinite blue sky
with thin needles stuck all over it doesn’t miss you

The leaves blow away, leaving their prints on the frozen river and

the one-hundred, two-hundred-story high buildings crumble all at once and

the spectacles with spectacles, shoes with shoes, lips with lips, eyebrows with
    eyebrows, footprints with footprints swept into a huge drawer don’t miss     you

The river is frozen eighty centimeters deep, a tank passes over it, and the fish
    beneath the ice don’t miss you

The dog tied to the electric pole in front of the tobacco shop for fourteen years
doesn’t miss you

While the big wind takes away thousands of women dead from madness

the sound of the “you’s” of your whole life, your hair falling

all of the winter landscape, wailing and wielding its whip doesn’t miss you

Thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions of snow flurries don’t miss you

Don’t descend all over the world, howling, murmuring, searching for your
    snowman-like body buried in the snow, don’t miss you and say love you or     whatever as if unfolding a beautifully folded letter

Don’t miss you just because you’re not you and I’m the one who’s really you

Don’t miss you as you write and write for forty-nine days with an inkless pen



Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Hendrik Muller fonds
Lira fonds
J.E. Jurriaanse
Literature Translation Institute of Korea
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère