Stone Field Cemetery – by Kong Kwangkyu

 

 

 

Stone Field Cemetery

 

Father, pressing his lips sternly
rolled my dead little brother in a straw bag
and went out to the stonefield by the mountain and returned after pushing upon your heart

Mother, having gone mad, spent many nights
croaking and sobbing, walking around the village farmlands barefoot

On days it rained
when she heard the sound of someone begging for mother’s milk outside
she’d call, “who is it!” and fling the door open

And each time, a few turtle doves would stamp
this and that
in hieroglyphics on the wet ground and fly back to the stonefield

When mother deciphered it and went out to the stonefield
there would be a bellflower in doleful bloom, adorned with a teardrop

 

Image may contain: 1 personWrite by Kong Kwangkyu

 

Translated by Cate Boram

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