54) The Father

 

       Wolran Kim

The father of my poetry is a flirt of the century

 

He calls back all bastards whenever he is drunk

My infant big eyes wokeup to a serious talk from a joke

I must have felt his dignity even byhis shallow curses fromoverhearing

 

Such as pilgrims who walk around the stupa everyday

I was an idiotic follower walking around his holy land clockwise

Who eats the tastiest food in my home

 

The day I realized the source of my mom’s tears

I was standing right by the falling wall of childhood

While I was thinking the world is like a fucker

I was like that

 

Often, I wanted to kill every man in this world

But, still, I wanted to keep my only father alive

 

Some say, leave your father now

But I never made my father stay, who left behind him only a joyful life

Only he keeps coming back to me

Saying this world is not like a fucker