Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Kim Yideum

CLOSING CREDITS

Just as a totally intoxicating song is about to end
I drag myself from the dark room and write the lyrics on the wall.
The lyrics I wrote last time on the wall are tangled up like vines
Drunk on the song, I suckle a woman’s scanty breasts.
Don’t leave me, don’t abandon me.
The lovers are grilling fish behind the wall, which smells like hey,
and the woman who left me won’t come looking for me.
The lyrics are in a foreign language, but they are easy
to translated into my mother tongue.
It’s like I put them through an automatic translator.
Every time I exhale, tender young leaves
and twigs of consonants and vowels fall out.
I breathe in a dark whirlwind and hold my breath.
In a daze, I transcribe the lyrics with my eyes closed, then suddenly
the song fades and scatters like sleet.

I pull my ear.
I hurriedly push the wall apart and take a step beyond the sound.
I just tear open the wall and barge in.
The woman with myopic, sunken eyes swings her thin, shiny arms.
Baby, please stop singing. Your hand is the only hand
that can cover your mouth. This rotten foreign tongue,
this song is calling us, this depressing song is gnawing on you.
Listen to the chorus of the dead singing along every night,
Drunk on your lovely song. Please let me leave now.
If I’d known the woman would be this sad,
I’d have started singing sooner. I start the song on a whim,
and my body, my questionable cadaver will sing the rest.
Like sleet, falling into dubious waters.
When the wall smells like hay
and a gentle tender sound caresses my cheeks,
I rise up in my sleep and lick the wall
and slowly descend the old staircase inside the wall.

EINDCREDITS

Als het volledig bedwelmende lied bijna afloopt
verlaat ik moeizaam de donkere kamer en schrijf ik de songtekst op de muur.
De zinnen van de vorige keer kronkelen als wijnstokken over elkaar heen.
Dronken van het lied zuig ik aan de magere borsten van een vrouw.
Laat me niet in de steek, verlaat me niet.
Geliefden grillen vis achter de naar hooi ruikende muur
en de vrouw die me heeft verlaten komt niet meer terug.
Het lied wordt gezongen in een vreemde taal, maar ik schrijf alles
probleemloos in mijn moedertaal op
alsof de zinnen automatisch door een vertaalmachine stromen.
Telkens als ik uitadem vallen er zachte bladeren
en takken van klinkers en medeklinkers op de grond.
Ik adem een donkere wervelwind in en blaas niet uit.
Verward en met mijn ogen dicht transcribeer ik de zinnen totdat
het lied plotseling wegsterft en neerdwarrelt als natte sneeuw.

Ik trek aan mijn oor.
Ik duw haastig een gat in de muur en stap door het geluid heen.
Ik scheur de muur in tweeën en storm naar binnen.
De bijziende vrouw met ingevallen ogen zwaait met haar dunne glimmende armen.
Liefje, stop toch met zingen, alleen met je eigen hand
kun je je mond bedekken. Dit boosaardige vreemde taaltje
dit lied roept ons, dit sombere lied knaagt aan je binnenste.
Luister naar het refrein dat de doden ’s avonds meezingen
bedwelmd door de geur van je lied. Alsjeblieft, laat me gaan.
Als ik had geweten dat deze vrouw zo sip was
was ik meteen begonnen met zingen. Ik begin het lied wanneer ik wil
en mijn lichaam, mijn verdachte kadaver zingt de rest.
Zoals natte sneeuw die in dubieus water valt.
Als de muur naar hooi ruikt
en een zacht geluid mijn wangen streelt,
sta ik op uit bed om de muur te likken
en af te dalen langs de oude trap in de muur.

엔딩 크레디트

유난히 끌리는 이 노래가 끝나갈 무렵
어둔 방에서 부스스 일어나 가사를 벽에 적는다
이전에 쓴 가사들이 벽에 넝쿨처럼 휘감겨 있다
나는 여인의 빈약한 젖을 빨며 노래에 취해 있었다
떠나지 마요 나를 버리지 마요
건초 냄새 나는 벽 속에서 연인들은 물고기를 굽고
나를 버린 여인은 나를 찾으러 오지 않을 것이다
알 수 없는 나라 노랫말들이 자동 번역기를 통과한 듯
모국어로 술술 풀어져 적히고 있다
숨을 내뱉을 때마다 자모음의 연한 가지 잎사귀들 떨어진다
난 거무스레한 소용돌이를 들이마신 후 숨을 참아야 한다
혼몽 속에서 눈 감은 채 받아 적는데 갑자기
노랫소리가 조그매지고 점점 눈비가 되어 흩어진다 

나는 내 귀를 잡아당긴다
다급히 벽을 열어젖히고 한 발을 소리 너머로 들이민다
가까스로 볼 수 있는 퀭한 눈의 여인이 얇고 환한 팔을 저어댄다
네 입을 막을 손은 네 손밖에 없단다 제발 그쳐라 아가야
이 몹쓸 방언 우리를 부르는 노래 우울한 노래가 너를 파먹잖니
네 노래의 향료에 심취한 죽은 자들이 밤마다 따라 부르는 후렴 소릴 들어봐라
이젠 날 떠나가게 해주렴
이 여인이 이토록 슬퍼할 줄 알았다면 진작 시작할걸 그랬지
나는 내 멋대로 선창한다 의혹스러운 나의 주검이 후반부를 채울 것이다
물의 의혹 속에 내리는 진눈깨비같이
벽에서 건초 냄새가 나고 여린 소리가 뺨을 쓰다듬을 때
잠든 난 이끌리듯 일어나 벽을 핥는다
벽 속의 낡은 계단을 천천히 내려간다\

Close

CLOSING CREDITS

Just as a totally intoxicating song is about to end
I drag myself from the dark room and write the lyrics on the wall.
The lyrics I wrote last time on the wall are tangled up like vines
Drunk on the song, I suckle a woman’s scanty breasts.
Don’t leave me, don’t abandon me.
The lovers are grilling fish behind the wall, which smells like hey,
and the woman who left me won’t come looking for me.
The lyrics are in a foreign language, but they are easy
to translated into my mother tongue.
It’s like I put them through an automatic translator.
Every time I exhale, tender young leaves
and twigs of consonants and vowels fall out.
I breathe in a dark whirlwind and hold my breath.
In a daze, I transcribe the lyrics with my eyes closed, then suddenly
the song fades and scatters like sleet.

I pull my ear.
I hurriedly push the wall apart and take a step beyond the sound.
I just tear open the wall and barge in.
The woman with myopic, sunken eyes swings her thin, shiny arms.
Baby, please stop singing. Your hand is the only hand
that can cover your mouth. This rotten foreign tongue,
this song is calling us, this depressing song is gnawing on you.
Listen to the chorus of the dead singing along every night,
Drunk on your lovely song. Please let me leave now.
If I’d known the woman would be this sad,
I’d have started singing sooner. I start the song on a whim,
and my body, my questionable cadaver will sing the rest.
Like sleet, falling into dubious waters.
When the wall smells like hay
and a gentle tender sound caresses my cheeks,
I rise up in my sleep and lick the wall
and slowly descend the old staircase inside the wall.

CLOSING CREDITS

Just as a totally intoxicating song is about to end
I drag myself from the dark room and write the lyrics on the wall.
The lyrics I wrote last time on the wall are tangled up like vines
Drunk on the song, I suckle a woman’s scanty breasts.
Don’t leave me, don’t abandon me.
The lovers are grilling fish behind the wall, which smells like hey,
and the woman who left me won’t come looking for me.
The lyrics are in a foreign language, but they are easy
to translated into my mother tongue.
It’s like I put them through an automatic translator.
Every time I exhale, tender young leaves
and twigs of consonants and vowels fall out.
I breathe in a dark whirlwind and hold my breath.
In a daze, I transcribe the lyrics with my eyes closed, then suddenly
the song fades and scatters like sleet.

I pull my ear.
I hurriedly push the wall apart and take a step beyond the sound.
I just tear open the wall and barge in.
The woman with myopic, sunken eyes swings her thin, shiny arms.
Baby, please stop singing. Your hand is the only hand
that can cover your mouth. This rotten foreign tongue,
this song is calling us, this depressing song is gnawing on you.
Listen to the chorus of the dead singing along every night,
Drunk on your lovely song. Please let me leave now.
If I’d known the woman would be this sad,
I’d have started singing sooner. I start the song on a whim,
and my body, my questionable cadaver will sing the rest.
Like sleet, falling into dubious waters.
When the wall smells like hay
and a gentle tender sound caresses my cheeks,
I rise up in my sleep and lick the wall
and slowly descend the old staircase inside the wall.

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