Five Poems

Five Poems Five Po e ms b y R a He e -D uk Translated by Diana Hinds Evans D eath b y ex p o su re This morning I noticed An abundance of dried fruit in my room. The pomegranates and clementines on my desk have become hard as stone. Their fragrance gone, they lie at rest. Perhaps losing your scent you will gain eternal life, I whisper as I stroke toughened skins. Acorns that dropped on my head last autumn Line up evenly on paper. When I rattle them a distant bell tolls. The dried wild rose is still red. Looking at fresh flowers or fruit The thought that I should give them a funeral Before they rot in their own juices Brought me to subject them to death by exposure. In the breezy sunshine I hung the fragrant bodies upside down If flesh and blood did not disappear 325 I could have no peace I placed on the fire flesh pickled in sugar of pain, Stirred it with a wooden spoon If I did not run away I couldn't endure Have I dried up too? Someone said I do a good job of drying flowers but http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Azalea: Journal of Korean Literature & Culture University of Hawai'I Press

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Publisher
University of Hawai'I Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2008 President and Fellows of Harvard College
ISSN
1944-6500
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

Five Po e ms b y R a He e -D uk Translated by Diana Hinds Evans D eath b y ex p o su re This morning I noticed An abundance of dried fruit in my room. The pomegranates and clementines on my desk have become hard as stone. Their fragrance gone, they lie at rest. Perhaps losing your scent you will gain eternal life, I whisper as I stroke toughened skins. Acorns that dropped on my head last autumn Line up evenly on paper. When I rattle them a distant bell tolls. The dried wild rose is still red. Looking at fresh flowers or fruit The thought that I should give them a funeral Before they rot in their own juices Brought me to subject them to death by exposure. In the breezy sunshine I hung the fragrant bodies upside down If flesh and blood did not disappear 325 I could have no peace I placed on the fire flesh pickled in sugar of pain, Stirred it with a wooden spoon If I did not run away I couldn't endure Have I dried up too? Someone said I do a good job of drying flowers but

Journal

Azalea: Journal of Korean Literature & CultureUniversity of Hawai'I Press

Published: Jan 28, 2008

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