Five Poems by Kim Ki-taek

Face

Since my eyes were tired and blurry, I briefly buried my face in my hands.

The face covered by my hands was dark and once the darkness had penetrated my hands my palms touched my skull.

My hands, seeming to sense something wonderful, felt the bone.

If I touched it too suddenly I felt that something would be lost.

So I set about exploring it bit by bit, gingerly,

that cold, unfriendly object, interested in nothing,

that solid ruin that most likely existed before my face formed.

You, face, stuck to the skull's shell,

forming expressions as you smile, weep, frown,

you, face, thin as the heart,

never sleeping, never thinking, never sorrowing,

my skull is always watching you,

watching the face that blooms briefly then fades,

the long hours stretching on even after the face's memory has been erased,

stretching behind the face

seeing with huge eyes pierced like sunglass-sized holes.

After a while I removed the hands that had been feeling the skull.

In a flash, sunlight turned into flesh and covered my skull, turning into face.

The face felt awkward on suddenly being covered after long abolition

and I blinked for a time. Having at last got my eyes back,

I quickly began to focus on the figures in the document.

A Hunchback

In the underpass,

pressed down by the low-curving darkness,

the old man could never be seen.

On my way to work,

every day he was there

but all...