The Woods
--at SokwangriBy Jang Ok Gwan
Translated by Rodney E. Tyson & Hong Eun-Taek
The Quarterly Review: Poetry & Criticism, 3(2), p. 246. Summer 2000.
Yellowish
Savory bread rises
The time of aged wine that stands firm and doesn't run
The mound of a grave sodded a few days ago
Is eagerly brewing something raw inside
The black woods grow rapidly
Pine mushrooms with round top hats spring up abruptly
The moon drowns in a wine jar
Yeast comes to a boil
Hot steamy breath that touches my ear lobes
A crescent moon that rips the hard bark from a tree and emerges
Someone splits the belly of a mountain and takes out a bronze mirror
White rays!
That pierce pale red gums and rise up
Under the blade of an ax that a woodcutter cast away
The Quarterly Review: Poetry & Criticism | Curriculum Vitae