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Tuesday, January 30, 2007
I've been reading a lot of poetry from other countries recently, and I really think it's had a huge impact on the way I write. There was one North Korean poem that nearly had me in tears a few days ago, and I honestly can't explain why. It's amazing how understanding the context in which a poem was written can change the way you read it.
Falling Persimmons
Byungu Chon
Persimmons fall
thump, thump,
where the demarcation line cuts
across the weedy hill, above the Kwansan ferry.
The owner's gone;
only the house remains.
For many years, the persimmons have ripened
in solitude and fallen mercilessly on the earth.
If I stretched out my arm, I could pick
the ripe red persimmons.
But the barbed wire fence along the demarcation line
cuts my heart, keeps me from taking even a step.
O, persimmon tree!
you also suffer from division.
I wonder when the day will come
for the owner to return, climb your green boughs,
and harvest you in happiness.
The girls in this village used to marry
before the feasting table
on which were heaped delicious persimmons
then cross the Imjin River, bound for Paju.
Now wrinkles have furrowed
faces once as red as persimmons.
Where have they gone - the girls of yesterday?
I search for them across the river - in vain.
The persimmons I touch in dream
thump in my heart.
Calling for the owner, for unification,
the persimmons
cut into this land
thump, thump.
