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Twelve Poems

Twelve Poems Twe lve Po e ms b y Ki Hy ng- d o Translated by Gabriel Sylvian Special Fe atu re Family on t h e Bri n k , 1 6 In late spring that year, Dad collapsed feebly like pills spilling from a glass bottle. The long summer, he ate nothing but rice soup. Under the lamplight, Mom put on a towel headband. We can do with storing fewer pickles this winter. . . . Don't say that, Mom . . . . Leaning against a pile of quilts, my big sister shouted at the top of her throat. The radishes are no good this year, nothing but holes! . . . . Closing my notebook, I looked at Mom. I need a new jacket, a bunch of the foam lining's gone . . . . That jacket will do you another winter! Your dad will be back on his feet in the spring! . . . My little sister, who had been shelling the garlic, rubbed her eyes and groaned. We already tried all the medicine for his palsy. . . . But Mom didn't say a word, she just quietly caught the towel slipping down http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Azalea: Journal of Korean Literature & Culture University of Hawai'I Press

Twelve Poems

Azalea: Journal of Korean Literature & Culture , Volume 3 (1)

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Publisher
University of Hawai'I Press
Copyright
Copyright © University of Hawai'I Press
ISSN
1944-6500
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

Twe lve Po e ms b y Ki Hy ng- d o Translated by Gabriel Sylvian Special Fe atu re Family on t h e Bri n k , 1 6 In late spring that year, Dad collapsed feebly like pills spilling from a glass bottle. The long summer, he ate nothing but rice soup. Under the lamplight, Mom put on a towel headband. We can do with storing fewer pickles this winter. . . . Don't say that, Mom . . . . Leaning against a pile of quilts, my big sister shouted at the top of her throat. The radishes are no good this year, nothing but holes! . . . . Closing my notebook, I looked at Mom. I need a new jacket, a bunch of the foam lining's gone . . . . That jacket will do you another winter! Your dad will be back on his feet in the spring! . . . My little sister, who had been shelling the garlic, rubbed her eyes and groaned. We already tried all the medicine for his palsy. . . . But Mom didn't say a word, she just quietly caught the towel slipping down

Journal

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

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