A Desert in Water Ki Hyongdo (1960-1989) Three in the morning, everything runs into the street. I am forbidden Monsoons pour down to an empty building Unintelligible sentences pass on the water and I no longer hint that I am present A window, a green corn leaf flow down A merciless corn plant……I pronounce it … Continue reading
Worried about Mom Ki Hyongdo (1960-1989) My mom, gone to a market With thirty bunches of radishes on her head, Does not return; it’s long been since the sun withered. Placed like cold rice in the room, However slow I do my homework, Mom doesn’t return. Trudge, trudge, footsteps like a cabbage leaf— I can’t … Continue reading
Empty House Ki Hyongdo (1960-1989) After the loss of love, I write: Farewell, nights that were brief, winter mists that roamed outside the window, candle lights that were clueless, farewell. Blank paper that were waiting for horror, tears that replaced hesitation, farewell, the desire that is no longer mine. Like a blind man I grope … Continue reading
Jealousy is My Power Ki Hyongdo (1960-1989) After very long time passes by A powerless bookmark will drop this paper Because my mind had built too many factories then, Foolishly, there were too many things to record. Like a mutt that roams under clouds, I tirelessly hesitated in the air. For a groan was the … Continue reading
Ahn Translation 