The sunset lifts its tail high,
Walking in like a peacock.
Birds are fond of the dark berries
That spill across the faces of flowers.
Ms. Yeon Myung-ji is a Korean poet
Hailing from Korea, the Land of Morning Calm, poet Yeon Myung-ji began her literary career in 2013 by publishing “Gashibi” with Minerva Publishing. She then published “Sitting like an Apple” and “Seventeen Miss Marco Polo.” She won the 2023 Homi Literary Award and the Gyeongbuk Ilbo Cheongsong Guesthouse Literary Award. She is a Vice President of Korean Association of World Literature.
The Collector of Hits
Where, on the body of the black rhinoceros,
Is the true mark?
The rhinoceros charging toward the target
Trusts its ears, doubting its sight.
With one slow breath, the beast collapses,
And across the African plain, one more mark disappears.
From every hit, unfailingly, a sunset pours out.
The hushed grass squeezes one eye shut.
The sunset lifts its tail high,
Walking in like a peacock.
Birds are fond of the dark berries
That spill across the faces of flowers.
They grew up without letters,
Nurtured on selfish folktales.
Time seeks out its own mark,
Wandering past refusals,
In a world where even gods are absent,
Gently winding down the second hand.
To aim require shutting one eye tight.
In the other eye, closed off from light,
All the collected hits are stored.
Never does one open both eyes for a mark.
For in the careless moment both eyes are opened,
All those gathered marks might escape.
The morning paper shows a glut of collectors of hits.
I, too, closed my left eye, wondering
What kind of collector I might be.
A collector chasing only those targets
That promise words I want to hear,
Skirting past misfortunes.
On easily festering ground,
Wildflowers push through,
Then fester once more.
One season, seeds drag dozens of hits
Into the fruit’s core,
For every flower is a target.
***
명중 수집가
검은 코뿔소의 몸은
어디가 명중일까요
과녁을 향해 달려가는 코뿔소는
귀에 의지해 시력을 의심하지요
한 호흡, 느리게 코뿔소가 쓰러지고
아프리카 초원에서 명중 하나가 사라집니다
명중에선 어김없이 노을이 쏟아져 나옵니다
숨죽인 풀들 한쪽 눈을 질끈 감지요
노을이 꼬리를 잔뜩 세우고
공작새처럼 걸어오네요
새들은 꽃의 얼굴에 넘쳐나는 검은 열매를 좋아하지요
글씨를 몰라 이기적인 전래동화를 들으면서 자랐거든요
시간은 스스로 명중을 찾아갑니다
거절을 지나 신조차 없는 세계를 서성이며
초침을 지그시 감아봅니다
조준은 한쪽 눈을 질끈 감아야합니다
감은 다른 눈엔 그동안 수집한
명중들이 가득 들어있습니다
명중을 위해 두 눈을 뜨는 일은 결코 없습니다
무심코 두 눈을 연 사이
그동안 모았던 명중들이 다 도망칠지도 모르니까요
조간신문을 보면 명중 수집가들은 넘쳐납니다
나는 어떤 종류의 수집가일까 왼쪽 눈을 감아봤어요
단순히 불행을 비껴가는
듣고 싶은 과녁만 향해가는 수집가가 보입니다
쉽게 짓무른 자리에
풀꽃이 돋아나고 다시 짓물러 갑니다
한 계절, 씨앗이 수십 개의 명중을 끌고
열매 속으로 가는 이유는
모든 꽃이 과녁이어서 그렇지요
___________________
