Inside-Bird and Outside-Bird
By Kim Hyesoon
Translated by Don Mee Choi
A frigid sound of a violin
Bird sweeps across the frozen river
and watches us from above
as if looking at the fish trapped beneath the ice
Bird crashes into the window
triggering a symptom
My nosebleed drips into milk
In the scattered crowd at the snow-covered square
two people walk side by side
It’s cold isn’t it?
No!
Perhaps we are the violin’s cradle
The opening and closing
of the gap between you and me
as if it were alive
a lumpy, transparent bird
too precious to be touched
It hurts to look down from above
Two people walk side by side
like the way the light switches for the dining room and kitchen sink are perfectly in line
like two words that appear on the back of the page
written by my teacher, drowsy from a painkiller
How wonderful if there were no doors in this or that world
I finally feel it
that the world becomes as flat as a mirror if bird doesn’t fly
that’s why my bird flies even in sleep
Bird pecks on the glass again
triggering a symptom
From up in the air I can see
you and me walking
as if I were looking at the fish
trapped beneath the ice
Translated from the Korean
Notes:
Read the Korean-language original, “안새와 밖새.”
“Inside-Bird and Outside-Bird” is from Phantom Pain Wings by Kim Hyesoon, translated by Don Mee Choi, published and printed here with permission of New Directions Publishing. Translation copyright © 2023 Don Mee Choi.
Source:
Poetry
(May 2023)
