April, Gray Terminal By Lee Hyang Ji
Translated by Rodney E. Tyson & Hong Eun-Taek
Poem Gate. January 15, 2002.
It comes riding a sorghum broom, rain
Comes when it's not expected
A woman like rain
A street at dawn
Without a boat whistle
A bride who just got off of a train
Sweeps her hair up and looks at a clock tower
While transferring between ship and train
Twenty hours passed, on the railroad
I rode the parallel lines all night long
But the clock's face is round
Its black rim encircled by gray mist
Come out, come out, lilac flowers striking their own bodies
Hello! I came from the archipelago, over there
The man running to catch that taxi is my bridegroom
A gray pigeon flies away
A gray car rolls up
A gray door opens
Hello! This is the gray terminal
Hello! I start from the gray terminal
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