Stones do not, under any circumstances, drink the light of dry water
Poet I, Byeong-il from Korea, the Land of Morning Calm, shares his poem. He writes poetry on environmental issues
Poet Mr. I, Byeong-il was born in Jinan, Jeollabuk-do, in 1981. He currently lives at the foot of Bukhansan Mountain in Banghak-dong, Dobong-gu Seoul. His works include many poems addressing environmental issues and ecological imagination. His first collection of poetry, “Discovery of the Side” (Changbi, 2012), his second poetry collection, “With Ninety-Nine Lights” (Changbi, 2016), and his third poetry collection, “A Tree is a Tree” (Literary Notebook, 2020), have been published. He currently teaches poetry at a university and writes poetry, plays, and prose.
The story of the stone net
It’s never easy to take a stone out of someone’s head, but
Finally the surgeon takes out the stone and calls it Sari.
He said it was a bleeding stone that appeared once every hundred years.
He who is crazy about stones knows when a stone turns into a bird.
He knows when the stone curled by the sound of rain rolls in despair.
He suddenly realizes that the boulder he bought with its gills hidden was also a minnow.
A river without a stone net is already a dead river.
But stones rise, roll, jump, run, and break.
Just to become a net
To remain only as a net
But I am a bird’s foot stuck in a stone
The empty night hasn’t come yet
I wanted to land on a willow branch
But I don’t have golden wings
I couldn’t even stand or lie down
Swallowing the light,
That stone that has been sparkling for a hundred years
It looked like a cracked or broken flower moon.
In any case, it is not the stone that breaks and falls apart.
It was a water bird. It was a shimmering shadow.
Well, the Earth is an indestructible stone.
That stone has a half-healed wound.
But it’s scary not to shed a single drop of blood
Today, the sunset spreads across the edge of the rocky field
I see them crushing the black rocky ground.
But for some reason, a blue colored stone
When the stone sees me removing the plain stone, it pretends to know.
― Stones do not, under any circumstances, drink the light of dry water.
It’s raining and clouding and it’s getting cold, but I
I only transcribed the story of the net made of stones.
***
돌로 된 그물 이야기
이병일
머리통에서 돌을 꺼낸다는 것은 결코 쉬운 일이 아니지만
마침내 외과의사는 돌을 꺼내놓고 그것을 사리라고 부른다
백년에 한번쯤 나타난 피 흘리는 돌이라고 했다
돌에 미친 자는 돌이 한 마리의 새로 되돌아갈 때를 안다
빗소리로 웅크린 돌이 막막함으로 구를 때를 안다
홀연 아가미 숨기고 산 차돌도 피라미였음을 안다
돌 그물이 없는 강은 이미 죽은 강이다
그러나 돌은 솟고 구르고 뛰고 달리고 깨진다
오직 그물이 되기 위해
오직 그물로 남기 위해
그런데 나는 돌 속에 갇혀 있는 새발이다
아직 텅 빈 밤은 오지 않았다
나는 버들가지에 내려앉고 싶었다
하지만 금빛 날개가 없어
서고 눕는 것도 할 수 없었다 하지만
빛을 삼키면서
백 년 동안 반짝반짝 떠 있는 저 돌
금 가거나 깨진 꽃달 같았다
어쨌건 부수고 부서지는 것은 돌이 아닌
물새였다 아롱진 그림자였다
참, 지구는 상하지 않는 돌이지만
반쯤 아무는 상처를 갖게 되었다지
그런데 피 한 방울 흘리지 않는 것이 무섭다
오늘은 돌밭 언저리에 번지는 노을이
시커멓게 돌밭을 뭉개고 가는 것을 본다
그런데 웬일일까, 푸른 빛깔 차돌 하나가
민무늬 돌을 떼어낸 나를 보고 알은체한다
― 돌은 웬만해선 마른 물빛을 마시지 않아요
비 갰다 흐렸다 하면서 추워지는데, 나는
오직 돌로 된 그물 이야기를 옮겨 적었다
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Read: Umbrella Sharing with the World – Poetry from Korea
