Survivors
A bird, as if knowing where it is going, gliding perfectly
through
one straight line
the dazzlingly blue sky the sliding bird made while passing
through
that afternoon sky under which I wanted to become mad
postmodernly
people who were unable to find seats were standing at the
entrance of a restaurant
forming no queue.
The literal translation of this poem was made by Kyoo Lee
The final translated version of the poem is by Sarah Maguire
© Poetry Translation Centre 2004-2012
Tom Fleet says:
Survivors, Hungering
Gliding perfectly straight, now there's a bird knows where it's going
The sky shimmering blue, rendered by it in passing
The afternoon beneath, turning delirious and postmodernly so
People too late for tables stood lineless at the door