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Two Translated Kim Yideum Poems

1 February 2018


Image courtesy of Kim Yideum


Wet Book

I walk along the street that is filling up with water. The evening outruns me like a truck covered in a dark blue tarp. The dark and narrow alley – is this the right way? My room on low ground easily sinks under lukewarm water, even when it is not full tide. I begin anew my search for home.

Remember to take the coat off by the door. I draw a line on my chest to measure the water level today. Humans are bound to leak. When everyone blinked at once, my bed floated away on their tears. The books that I kept in the bathtub didn’t get wet.

I sit on the chair floating in water, and I sit at the desk floating in water, and I write alphabets the way I drink water from rain boots. The tied up bundle of letters is a face filled with tears. Your cat won’t calm down. She trembles on the bosom of the wet book.


젖은 책

물이 차오르는 거리를 걷는다 저녁은 암청색 방수포를 씌운 트럭처럼 나를 앞지른다 어두컴컴하고 좁은 골목 이 길이 맞나 저지대의 내 방은 만조가 아니어도 미온의 물에 잠겨 버리고 새로이 나는 집을 찾아 헤매곤 한다

외투는 문턱에서 벗을 것 가슴에 금을 그으며 오늘의 수위를 확인한다 사람은 누수한다 동시에 모두가 눈을 깜빡였다면 내 침대는 눈물에 떠내려가지 욕조 안에 넣어둔 책들은 젖지 않았다

물에 뜬 책상 앞에서 물에 뜬 의자에 앉아 나는 장화에 담긴 물을 마시듯이 글자를 적는다 묶어놓은 편지 다발은 눈물로 가득 찬 얼굴 진정하지 않는 너의 고양이가 젖은 책의 젖가슴 위에서 떤다

 


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