LTI Korea 
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Readings
A Poetry Reading by Poet Jin Eun-young "After That Day"
After That Day Dad, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was born so tiny, just over two kilograms. Sorry I’ve stayed around you for such a short time, too brief to reach twenty years old. Mom, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not charging my cell phone when I went to the academy at night. Sorry I couldn’t contact you for a week when I got back from the ship this time. Granny, I’m sorry to make you cry more than all the tears of the past years. So sorry, I couldn’t show you my life ripening warmly and tenderly cooking a pancake with you. Dad, Mom, I’m sorry. I’m sorry to make it rain like tears on my dad’s tired head. Dad, I’m sorry to make the wind blow in a sad whisper to you. Mom, I’m sorry to keep you wearing black shirts all the time when all the colors of fall fit you so well. Mom, there’s a gentle cloud here that carries me like my dad’s broad back. Here, the sunlight is fluttering warm through the clouds like a ribbon worn by friends, here the same scarlet sun sets in. There’s a hammock hanging between two pillars of your memory, Mom and Dad. If I lie in that hammock and take a nap I am still a child with chubby cheeks, running my fingers through hair behind my coy ears. A child of Mom and Dad, both vigorous, cheering up among the largest families of the greatest grief. Dad, I have friends here. I have friends who tell me things like this. “Your eyes, without double eyelids, are so pretty when they quietly become round.” “You have such a sweet voice, Your straight hair shines like the starlight on the water.” Dad! Mom! Do you remember the song I sang with my friends sitting on a bench with cherry blossoms falling around? I am with a boy who plays guitar well and girls who sing well. I am with cats with super-soft fur like touching music. I am with Mom’s night company and my pink hand mirror. I am with my fair face, seventeen years old reflected in the mirror, we’re all here together and happy. Dad, don’t be sad if I can’t visit you often in your dreams because I’m busy playing with my friends. Dad, don’t wake up at 3:00 a.m. and keep looking at my picture. Dad, don’t get upset even if I get to like my friends here too much. Mom, if Dad gets upset, please give him a tight hug instead of me. Ha-eun, my sister, if Mom feels sad, please give her a tight hug instead of me. Sung-eun, if Ha-eun feels sad, please make your favorite lemonade for her. Ji-eun, if Sung-eun feels sad, sing a song for her instead of me. Dad, if Ji-eun feels sad, please carry her up on your back lightly instead of me. Auntie, embrace the tired shoulders of Mom and Dad. Friends, wipe away my family’s tears. Thanks, Ha-eun, my twin sister. Thank you so much for coming into the world, holding hands with me. Let us, I here, and you there, protect Mom, Dad, and our sisters. I will be happy as long as you are happy. I will be loved as much as you are loved. You understand that, right? Dad, Dad! I am a rainbow-like child that rises behind a great flood of grief. Thank you for making me one of the coolest names in the sky. Mom, Mom! Thank you for singing the song of truth, the clearest song among the songs I hope to sing. Mom and Dad, thank you for loving me more after that day. Mom and Dad, thank you for loving me so dearly. Mom and Dad, I am Ye-eun,1 a child of two persons who walk for me, who starve for me, who shout and fight for me, who want to live as the most sincere and honest mom and dad in this world. I am Ye-eun of all of us, the forever beloved child, even after that day. Today is my birthday. Yoo Ye-eun was a second-year student at Danwon High School in Ansan who died in the Sewol ferry disaster on April 16, 2014. On October 15, Ye-eun’s parents, three sisters, and her friends gathered at the space named “Healing” in Ansan city and held Ye-eun’s seventeenth birthday party. It was also the birthday of Ha-eun, Ye-eun’s twin sister. On behalf of Ye-eun who couldn’t attend the birthday party, poet Eun Young Jin recited the story of Ye-eun through this poem. translated by Eun-Gwi Chung
By Korean Literature Now
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Readings
Short Story Reading by Kim Bong-gon
A pale yellow light seeped into the sea of blue. The light calmed me, and I changed position to float on my back. I heard the muffled chop-chop of waters as Young-woo swam around. For a brief moment, the sky took on a pinkish orange hue. The sun was coming up from below the bridge on the left, and the dense mat of cattails in the distance was shaking hard in the wind. The blue light was being pushed further to the right. With Young-woo swimming behind me, I went up to the bank. I had 37 missed calls—all from Director Park. It was half past six. Director, where are you? Director, hello? Director. Hey, where are you? Are you nuts? Will you fuckin’ get a grip? Answer the phone. Hey, whoever you’re sleeping with, he’s not going to make your film happen. Director, please pick up. Don’t tell me you want to play yourself in the film. Director Bong, did something happen? Please call. Shaking myself dry, I looked back at Young-woo. Like a white buoy, he was floating in place. I couldn’t read his expression from where I was, but I imagined him to be smiling. You’re still trash after all these years. And I’m just horny as hell. Let’s never meet again, I mumbled to myself. I got dressed and found the exit. Nearby, there was a tunnel leading to the outside. The last I looked, Young-woo was deep underwater. Near the floodgate, I was swept up in the sting of rejection. It was like deja vu—me turning him down yet left feeling dirty. When Young-woo admitted he didn’t like me, I felt like I was shunned by everyone I knew, even though he was just one person. Why couldn’t I differentiate the two. I was torturing myself with my thoughts and turning into a monster. Couples who look alike can be quite an ugly sight, he once said. Why did I think of it as his way of getting rid of me, when he was in fact in self-denial. Why in the world did I fall for someone like you. Not anymore, I decided. I won’t let you play me. I vowed to myself that I will have changed the moment I exit this tunnel, flooded with white light. I rang Director Park. But this time, she was the one who didn’t pick up. I continued walking—barefoot, forgetting I hadn’t packed my shoes—toward the end of the tunnel. Yeah, taking Director Park’s advice has always turned out well. I have no time to waste. Director Park, I’m sorry. Please wait for a while. You know how I get sometimes. This is the last time, I promise. But hey, you know, we could also make this into a film. You probably don’t think so, but I think it could. I must make sense of this rendezvous. I didn’t want to let him steal my sense of irony or sadness. I couldn’t be the one giving again. This feels like my role, or is it just me? Am I crazy for thinking so? I didn’t answer when she called back. Turning off my cell phone, I flung it to the ground. The sun was up, and it couldn’t have been brighter. The silhouettes had all restored their colors. The foam created by Young-woo’s strokes sparkled in the sun. I took out the clothes I had worn at work for Young-woo to get changed into. At least they’re dry, I’m glad they don’t smell, I thought. Seeing that I had returned, Young-woo slowly made his way to the bank. The hum of cicadas was growing intense, and Young-woo stopped for breath midway. After gazing at him for some time, I buried my face in my knees. When I lifted my head, he was closer than before. Young-woo was quietly swaying to the flow of the river, or perhaps, to the speed of summer. translated by Park Kyoung-lee
By Kim Bong-gon
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Readings
A Poetry Reading by Poet Chong Hyon-jong "Dew"
Dew Chong Hyon-jong Look at the river, our blood. Look at the wind, our breath. Look at the soil, our flesh. Look at the clouds, our philosophy. Look at the trees, our poetry. Look at the birds, our dreams. Oh, look at the insects, our loneliness. Look at the horizon, our longing, flowers’ ecstasy, our joy. Where are you heading for? Into whose body? With your heart going pit-a-pat. Into whose breath? The road is open, the infinite of the road - A tree breeds a cloud, a cloud breeds the river, and the river breeds birds, and the birds breed a wind, and a wind breeds a tree... The cool and green road is open. The swirl of the road, drunken and dizzy. The breath, the waterway, a blood vessel... The road, the grave spider web a dew drop yielded there - (Emptiness becomes subtle existence.) Dew that devoured the sun, a thing of all, Dew made from the rolling wind, of all, Dew that baked the lightning, of all, Gathered as a drop, the juice of all, Dew that slept with thunder and bore thunder Dew, the mirror of Neptune and Pluto Dew, passing through the worms’ gut, rolling in the voice of birds, finally formed on the grass leaves.... translated by Chung Eun-gwi
By Korean Literature Now
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Readings
A Poetry Reading by Poet Kim Sun-woo "Dogtooth Violet"
Dogtooth Violet My old love called me at midnightand asked if I ever masturbate.I said I do sometimes.He asked who I think about when I do it.“No one,” I said, though I asked, “Does a flower openits buds only when it thinks of butterflies and bees?”He couldn’t understand my words.The dogtooth violet…the flower raising a feeble stalkthrough hard-packed soil and unmelted snowon a hill below Namhaekeumsan came to ming.The feel of sunlight on the stalkand the old longing of moisture to tickle rootletsat the start of the thaw made my breasts swell.“In the language of flowers dogtooth violet means wanton woman.Do you think the wind shakes the stalk?It’s the passion within the stalk that produces the wind.See how its two legs lie down like grass.”Even with no one to knock it down,a dogtooth violet is a dogtooth violet.It burns hot as hardwood charcoal. From If my tongue refuses to remain in my mouth (Autumn Hill Books, 2018)Translated by Won-Chung Kim and Christopher Merrill
By Korean Literature Now
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Readings
A Poetry Reading by Poet Kim Haengsook "Dear Angel"
Detailed Information Date: 2018.3.23 Provider: LTI Korea Running Time: 02:19 Writer: Kim Haengsook Language: English More information on Korean literature writers http://library.ltikorea.or.kr
By Kim Haengsook
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Readings
A Poetry Reading by Poet Shim Bo-Seon "Questions"
Detailed InformationDate: 2018.3.23Provider: LTI KoreaRunning Time: 02:17Writer: Shim Bo-SeonLanguage: EnglishMore information on Korean literature writers http://library.ltikorea.or.kr
By Shim Bo-Seon
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Readings
A Poetry Reading by Poet Shim Bo-Seon "Today, I"
Detailed InformationDate: 2018.3.23Provider: LTI KoreaRunning Time: 02:02Writer: Shim Bo-SeonLanguage: EnglishMore information on Korean literature writers http://library.ltikorea.or.kr
By Shim Bo-Seon
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Readings
A Poetry Reading by Poet Kim Haengsook "The Position of the Neck"
Detailed InformationDate: 2018.3.23Provider: LTI KoreaRunning Time: 02:46Writer: Kim HaengsookLanguage: EnglishMore information on Korean literature writers http://library.ltikorea.or.kr
By Kim Haengsook
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Readings
A Poetry Reading by Poet Shin Dalja "Two Hands"
Two Hands Thus you came.Crossing deserts, then deserts again,crossing deserts again, then deserts again,sand storms demolishing my body, blazing sunlight demolishing my bonesmy feet frayed to tatters, my pace a dragging of bare feet through flames,night falls then until morning comes againwith a thirst ready to suck out my very life's blooddragging on across desert and again desertmy toes already melted away, my whole body held tight in the desert's jawsyet telling myself: I must go on,with that one thought I reached here,thus I came.Through primeval forests, the icy snows on the Himalayas,crossing the sacred peaks of snowy mountainsI must go on, bearing my life, no turning back,plunging on neck-deep in trackless snows, crossing bladesof silence already frozen neck-high, on blades of throat-slashing gales,even pulling out one heart-beat,or removing one of the vertebrae in my backbone,holding erect a staggering body black with frostbite,telling myself: I must go on,forcing my blood to circulate by one longing alone, I came hither.All the flesh gets torn to shreds and rots,only two hands meet whiteand form in space a Cathedral. translated by Brother Anthony of Taize and Chung Eun-Gwi
By Shin Dalja
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Readings
A Poetry Reading by Poet Shin Dalja "Offering a Flower"
Offering a Flower Do you love me?With those wordsI go clambering up dizzying cliff.The higher I climbthe higher the dim cliff rises and above it;the flowerwhrere your answer blooms in secretand on finding that ecstasyI must give my life,the lofty sanctuaryof hands touching,while I only strive to approacha sparking concentration ofextinction.Freed, freed of the body,rising as a whirlwind,that dark momentwhen even heaven cloeses its eyes, giddy,as by the meeting of eyessurvivng deepest blueI pluck and offer that flower
By Shin Dalja
