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