i’d like you to go with me
through life
like a sail
that would discover for me the world
but i’m on the uncertain side
where the wind pounds
and i can only teach you
the names of trees
whose fruit will be plucked in another season
where the trains scatter
anguished whistles
Byungu Chon (trans. Won-Chung Kim and Christopher Merrill)
[Birthday and photograph difficult to find]
Falling Persimmons
Persimmons fall
thump, thump,
where the demarcation line cuts
across the weedy hill, above the Kwansan ferry.
The owner's gone;
only the house remains.
For many years, the persimmons have ripened
in solitude and fallen mercilessly on the earth.
If I stretched out my arm, I could pick
the ripe red persimmons.
But the barbed wire fence along the demarcation line
cuts my heart, keeps me from taking even a step.
O, persimmon tree!
you also suffer from division.
I wonder when the day will come
for the owner to return, climb your green boughs,
and harvest you in happiness.
The girls in this village used to marry
before the feasting table
on which were heaped delicious persimmons
then cross the Imjin River, bound for Paju.
Now wrinkles have furrowed
faces once as red as persimmons.
Where have they gone - the girls of yesterday?
I search for them across the river - in vain.
The persimmons I touch in dream
thump in my heart.
Calling for the owner, for unification,
the persimmons
cut into this land
thump, thump.
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