Cheju Island

 

Cheju Island

The front yard and the back yard are the sea from anywhere in the island.

Mt. Halla is the sky of the island wherever you are.

The sea has seduced many fishermen to Ieodo and many did not return.

The Cheju women’s tears made the sea bluer and windier.

Many more women live on the island

Who lost their husbands and sons to the Ieodo sea.

Reeds are waving flags on the melancholy coastal hill.

The sea is spreading from my front and back yards to the ocean.

Mt. Halla is always seen as the sky of the island.

In between, 370 hills lie like the Silla Kingdom’s Royal Tombs.

By Yearn Hong Choi

Flowers in the Borderland

Flowers in the Borderland

Flowers in the borderland are beautiful as

any flower in the center of the Continent,

but not many people watch the flowers in the borderland.

That is sad..

The sailors returning from the other side of the ocean

know that the borderland flowers are equally beautiful or more beautiful than

any flowers on any port of call;

No flower is more beautiful than their wives or lovers at home.

The longer their separation is,

the more tearful their reunion will be.

The more tearful their reunion is,

the more beautiful love is blossomed in a flower.

Don’t feel sad!

I am going to tell the world that

the flowers I saw on the cliffs in Portugal

are the most beautiful flowers, unforgettable.

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A Girl washing my feet

A Girl washing my feet

I went to a foot massage parlor

after the Great Wall outside Beijing.

We were assigned to a small room.

Suddenly my privilege to travel

became my shame.

I was not a nude,

but my two feet made me a bit shameful,

when a teen-age girl came to me with a water basin.

My wife was assigned by a teen-age boy.

Our feet were washed, cleaned and massaged

by two children.

They asked once in a while in broken Korean language,

“Do you feel good?”

I could not answer: I just smiled at her.

I could not ask a question, “Are you going to school?”

Jesus once washed his disciples’ feet.

Does He ask me?

“You are fine. Don’t be ashamed of!”

To Poetry

You are the only thing left to me

after I have come a long distance

from my hometown..

Now, I am sixty-five.

I will rely on you for the rest of my life

in the time my vision is blurred and hearing is hampered

because you are a beautiful dreamer.

When I dye,

Please bury me in your ground

with all beautiful metaphors.

Outside your window

my spirit will be wildflowers in spring,

my spirit will be a green azure in summer,

my spirit will be a maple tree in autumn and

my spirit will be snow from heaven in winter.

You should light a lamp for a wayfarer in the night

who is coming from a long distance.

You are soothing and comforting the souls.

My friend!

Angel’s Words

Angel’s Words

My earthenware is more beautiful than any porcelain,

and it makes sound more beautiful than any golden instrument.

Your loving care is more than my bowl can contain;

Solitude

Solitude

When you cannot handle solitude,
walk into the woods and talk to the trees and birds.
Then, the water in the creek will carry your solitude to the sea.
I know solitude is the disease of those who live in the high altitude.
If you still cannot handle solitude,
communicate with the stars in the night sky.
Then, the most shining star which looks like the chrysanthemum,
hyacinth or the firework in the summer night’s dream
will present you one beautiful poem
no one can write.
That poem will cure your solitude.

April

April

Cherry flower petals falling down
like white butterflies
land softly and cover the green grass.
Then, real butterflies coming down from the sky
to the Earth
dance in between magnolia flowers.
It is a beautiful dance festival.
The butterflies are whispering to the flowers:
We are leading the feast.
They are questioning:
Who wrote, “April is cruel!”