For Y

You have abandoned me.

Saying it’s time to break up,

you have abandoned me.

In the mountain and at the seashore,

I have abandoned myself.

When I splayed myself on the table and spread my legs,

I saw the sky through the concrete roof

and the air filling up the lungs of flying birds.

Before I could count to five,

I could no longer see the roof, the sky, and the birds.

While dying, I saw my baby and me

floating endlessly down the city ditch,

down the city ditch and into the womb

of bygone days.

Since then, when I lie down in this world as in a grave

and long for the sky,

my baby flies by,

trailing fins that look like a tadpole’s tail.

You bastard, I’ll kill you by any means.

I’ll give birth to you inside me again.

When my baby, blown by a strong wind,

plunges into the ground,

it lives warm in my grave for a few months

and then departs for the cold sky-sea again,

trailing fins that look like a tadpole’s tail.

Oh, son of a bitch,

I’ll never forget you!

Translated from the Korean

Notes:

This poem is from Phone Bells Keep Ringing for Me (Action Books, 2020), translated by Won-Chung Kim and Cathy Park Hong, and is reprinted with permission of Action Books.

Source: Poetry (January 2021)

Cathy Park Hong and Lynn Xu on the Poetry of Choi Seungja