A Persimmon Tree
The persimmon tree must be wondering what happened to its owner.
That’s why it stretches its branches farther toward the gate,
And that’s why it sometimes shakes in the wind,
The tearful red drops
Hanging from its branches in the fall.
After settling it here,
Its owner, who had lived in the house for thirty years,
Ran away on a night train,
Already fifteen years ago—
The persimmon tree must miss him.
That’s why, in spring, new leaves
Sprout on the branches reaching over the wall.
.
.
.
Lee Jae-mu : born in 1958, professor, poetry [ I Surrender to Sadness ] etc
.
Translated by Seung-Hee Jeon
(literary critic and translator, editor of Asia: A Magazine of Asian Literature)
