Poems

by Choe Young-mi

As if tracing a perfect, pre-destined route,
the bird soars

through the air,
turning that clichéd blue sky blindingly blue —

that afternoon sky
under which I am going postmodernly mad

A gaggle of customers stuck outside the restaurant throng
   round the door
unable to queue.

The literal translation of this poem was made by Kyoo Lee

The final translated version of the poem is by Sarah Maguire

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