LTI Korea 
DLKL 
SIWF 
Two Poems by Hwang Yuwon scrap
by Hwang Yuwon
Translated by Hedgie Choi
March 7, 2024
Author Bio 작가 소개
Hwang Yuwon
Spectacle
Trapped inside an empty wine glass, struggling leggily in all directions
slipping this way and that, the centipede
having realized finally that there’s nowhere to run to
doesn’t become violent but instead turns off its engine for a moment
and enters total stillness.
At this unexpected attitude, I was a little surprised
and, paying no attention to my little surprise,
the centipede bent its body slightly
and, starting with the legs on the right side, one by one
licked them, then started on the left legs, one by one
from beginning to end
like a woman taking a freshly wrung mop to the church floor
with great care
exalted, you could even say
as if each one of its too-long too-many legs were some ancient manuscript
and its mandibles, made, apparently, to chew and swallow tiny bits of things
were licking them
one by one, as if to turn their pages.
Solemnly moved, you let the centipede go.
Its legs flowing far away again
is surely a flow you’re seeing for the first time
and how shoddy is a body if it didn’t even have such a flow—
Like a riverside with no river
Like a café on the riverside with no flow of people.
Therefore, there is a flow.
There is a flow and
there is the riverside scenery accompanied by the flow.
And sitting at a café, after enduring the day’s ups and downs,
there I am, fiddling with the leggy stem of a wine glass.
Near dawn, at the riverside
at that place that could be the Seine or the Hongjecheon
remembering the centipede and its leisure—
which seemed to say that it is not captive now
and no one is watching or
so what if
someone is watching—
there I am, lifting the wine glass once more.
At night, when the red wine with its thousands of legs
crawls into my throat and goes totally silent
I, thinking hard about how I too have nowhere to run
empty the glass and get up and
try flowing wherever—
imitating the ripple of the centipede
flowing into the wine glass
flowing out of the wine glass
with the feeling of the centipede.
But here’s my flow, not even as good as the centipede’s.
Oh you beyond the glass—
you’re not so different from me,
all humans are a spectacle—
stare away, take it all in.
Blank
In my dream my hair went white
In my head the white
Snow was coming down
By the time I realized I was almost all the way across the river
There was already so much snow on my head
It must be because my mind’s whited out
That it’s still snowing inside my head
It must be the snowstorm raging
That makes it impossible to see an inch ahead
It’s nice not to see
Because it doesn’t matter where you go, if you can’t see
All the footsteps will disappear
Now I am standing on some other land
From there it seems it’s still snowing on the river behind me
Now I don’t have to go back there
I can’t go back there—that single fact
Hardens in the cold
Heavy snow is like a blank sheet
And sometimes brilliant
Which is so dear to me that I look once again
At that blank sheet
Look at this blank sheet
That I’ve written
This blank sheet I wrote
Has become so bright
by Hwang Yuwon
Translated by Hedgie Choi
Writer 필자 소개
Hwang Yuwon
Translator 번역가 소개
Hedgie Choi
Did you enjoy this article? 별점
Did you enjoy this article? Please rate your experience
