Kim Hyesoon
trans. by Don Mee Choi
Two POEMS
Such Painful Hallucination
DAY FORTY
Listen, listen carefully to what I have to say
Now you’ll see the world inside your glasses
You’ll know what the water is saying inside you
You’ll know what the fire is saying inside you
You’ll see the three eyes dangling from you
You’ll see your rage as the other
You’ll see the four eyes dangling from you
You’ll see your anxiety as the other
You’ll the eight heads dangling from you
You’ll see your fear as the other
You’ll see the dogs inside you
You’ll see the pigs inside you
You’ll see the you who became a triangle
You’ll see the you who became a rectangle
You’ll pass a tribe of endless patterns made from your voices that never evaporate
Listen, listen without fear
for it’s the night of you raging like the influenza
for it’s the night of the mourning outfit giving birth to you at the bottom of the well
for it’s the night of you blooming for the hundredth, a hundred and one times
for it’s the night of death panting repeatrepeatrepeatedly from hunger
for it’s the night of all the holes of your body packing up to move
for it’s the night of you who have died inside you awakening
for it’s the night of the snails, the wingless bats
waking up faceless, brainless, their bodies slipslippery at the bottom of the well
for it’s the night of the dead you of yesterday and the dead you of the day before
jumping rope
each time you jump up a dead giraffe, a dead dragon, a dead hen fall to the bottom
Look, look carefully without fear
Name
DAY FORTY-TWO
Your dead lover wants to meet you. Wants to meet you at a café. Wants to meet you in a restroom. Wants to meet you at a hospital. Wants to meet you overseas. If not here or there, wants to meet you in bed. Just for a brief moment. There’s no use avoiding it. Tells you to come outside the window, for a brief moment. Just wants to see your face.
Your dead lover asks why you’ve come. That it’s not time for you to meet yet. But since you’ve come she asks you to lie down. Asks you to fall asleep since you’re lying down. Asks you to leave since you’ve slept. Tells you to put on your shoes properly. Tells you that you don’t need to shout so much. That you don’t need to fall down so much. No need for your knees to be scraped at all.
Your dead lover comes to you. Even though she doesn’t open the door. Even though she’s not carrying a bag. Even though she’s not wearing shoes. Even though she’s not coughing. She wouldn’t be able to come to you so often if she were alive. She still comes without an appointment. Even though she’s undressed. Even though she’s buried in the ground.
You walk beneath the sea that’s filled with your lover. Beneath the raging sea filled with your lover. You walk beneath the sea, unable to breathe, unable to stop breathing. You walk beneath the stormy sea. Beneath the raining sea. You walk gasping through the vast trembling blue, the sea ceiling, the sea floor, the sea wall, the sea window. You walk beneath the sea and see your lover whichever direction you turn your head. No one can see from the outside, but several meters beneath the sea two whales are having a bloody fight.
Your dead lover wants to drink tea with you. Wants to eat with you. Wants to wash
her face with you. Wants to play with you. Wants to travel with you in your dream.
You were trying to find a way to break up with your lover, but your lover removes
her hands from her eyes and asks you what your name is. She asks, Haven’t we
met before?
Kim Hyesoon is one of the most influential contemporary poets of South Korea. She lives in Seoul and teaches creative writing. Her most recent books in translation include Sorrowtoothpaste Mirrorcream (Action Books, 2014), I’m OK, I’m Pig! (Bloodaxe Books, 2014), and Poor Love Machine (Action Books, 2016).
Don Mee Choi is the author of Hardly War (Wave Books, 2016), The Morning News is Exciting (Action Books, 2010), a chapbook, Petite Manifesto (Vagabond, 2014), and a pamphlet, Freely Frayed (Wave Pamphlet #9). She has received a Whiting Award, Lannan Literary Fellowship, and Lucien Stryk Translation Prize.