The sound of a grandfather clock at the end of a dark corridor,
between one and two,
even between eleven and twelve,
it strikes just once.
It is an unexpected awakening, a sterile arousal.
It doesn’t inform us what middle zone
between A o’clock and B o’clock we are passing.
Just the fact you have trodden half of something.
As if everything depends on your decision whether you return or proceed,
the sins committed from now on would be remembered till death.
JIN Eun-young (b. 1970) majored in philosophy at Ewha Womans University and Graduate School, receiving her Ph. D for her research on Nietzsche. Her poetry collections include Dictionary with Seven Words (2003) and Every day, We (2008). For her, writing poetry proves the most agreeable method of communicating and exchanging with the world. Perhaps her writing activities are, like the waving branches furthest from our reach, nothing but weak, fragile acts. But her poetic and philosophical distance from the center means she is free to come in contact with other beings and objects. For her, poetry is a surprise created by fingers stretching out to the world rather than to her own body.
