Paper Coffee cup
Thomas Kim(동아줄 김태수)/Translated by Phillip Lee (이 필립)
Enormous rains and snowstorms invaded our global villages; Japan was swept by a formidable tsunami.
In front of the bus terminal TV, people focus on the news coverage showing the devastations caused by the “water-bombs” while holding their breaths and drinking coffee from the vending machine.
At a logging site at the Amazon
The day when our friends fell to the ground, shrieking and falling to the ground with their lower trunks mercilessly cut, they were sold to a foreign land; and became heart-warming paper cups that disappear like breaths in the air without a trace.
Just like I, who were sold and destroyed and melted; burned only to leave behind a bitter-sour odor.
Only to behold just once the sacredness of my existence, I leave behind the trace of my being stained with blood and get burned or buried.
That place called Amazon, which has sustained its existence from the beginning of the time, and where I have been standing all this time, is being engulfed in flames in the name of “development.”
A being raped and deformed even to the roots, just like the pain I encountered; immeasurable tear drops bombard the top of the falling and sliding dirt.
Even today, people drink the vending machine coffee, worrying about things like “global warming,” “heavy rain,” “radioactive contamination,” which caused inflations in agricultural and seafood products.
The more they drink, the more cut trunks pile up.
Thomas Kim(동아줄 김태수)/Translated by Phillip Lee (이 필립)
Enormous rains and snowstorms invaded our global villages; Japan was swept by a formidable tsunami.
In front of the bus terminal TV, people focus on the news coverage showing the devastations caused by the “water-bombs” while holding their breaths and drinking coffee from the vending machine.
At a logging site at the Amazon
The day when our friends fell to the ground, shrieking and falling to the ground with their lower trunks mercilessly cut, they were sold to a foreign land; and became heart-warming paper cups that disappear like breaths in the air without a trace.
Just like I, who were sold and destroyed and melted; burned only to leave behind a bitter-sour odor.
Only to behold just once the sacredness of my existence, I leave behind the trace of my being stained with blood and get burned or buried.
That place called Amazon, which has sustained its existence from the beginning of the time, and where I have been standing all this time, is being engulfed in flames in the name of “development.”
A being raped and deformed even to the roots, just like the pain I encountered; immeasurable tear drops bombard the top of the falling and sliding dirt.
Even today, people drink the vending machine coffee, worrying about things like “global warming,” “heavy rain,” “radioactive contamination,” which caused inflations in agricultural and seafood products.
The more they drink, the more cut trunks pile up.
