5/2/2023 0 Comments Ethereal vs ephemeral![]() We need a song, a song whose weight, neither low nor high, reaches the light of daybreak. We need a song, a walking song that insects, stars, and dead souls, too, cherish. We need a song which those who were sleeping in some distant village wake up with and listen to with closed eyes while waiting for new sleep to come. We need a song for the road, a song we sing walking together, a song like lamenting, like congratulating, like praying most dolefully,Ī song of my ancestors and a song of my own, an incantation transmitted over a million years, a song that is river and also fountain. ![]() We need a song, not the ideological kind, not the military-march kind, but a sad song to sing as we walk along barefoot at night, a little remainder of an old-fashioned custom from our African ancestors. We need a song, not a song on some extravagant stage or in a theater, but three or four of us, several of us, singing together, comforting each other, consoling each other on a weary night road. We need a song to sing while walking along. The next day, shoot out questions that cannot be answered as a sunspot, as a blind father. Suffer them as a stagnant puddle, as a naked body with shining scars. How pitiful the world’s ten thousand years of answers and replies are! Sleep well, my lovely animal, animals’ ink-like tears. Indeed, I was a petty thief in Byeoknando Island in Songdo in the Goryeo Dynasty, who never knew until I died that a Persian barwoman was my mother. I am indeed antiquity, was a penniless bum in ancient times. The time before I write a poem and the toilet stench after a poem is written are animals, too. Non-freedom, too, when handcuffs are snapped on, is ultimately an animal of liberation. The tether of poetry he speaks of is poetry’s animal. The world is a temptation to interrelation, a commitment to relationship, relationship’s fair and unfair trade.Īh, the unconscious is more of an animal than the conscious. When something catches fire, the oxygen in the air arrives promptly to keep the fire alive and vigorous. the ground into animals.įire, too, is an animal. Wind, water, or something turns leaves and branches and trunks of trees and even the crown of roots beneath the ground, even the crown of branches above. ![]() Those deaths, transcendence of I, are animals. Ah, that empty sky, my lust, is an animal. Anything, whatever it may be, among all things, and its neutrons, too, are animals.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |