Blesok no. 28, September-October, 2002
Poetry


Nana Stories

Hanyong Jeong



Nana Story – 1


A woman who lives in a florist shop – more accurately, who lives in a rose farm, a woman who is a little brighter than rose petals named 'Sephia,' a woman who laughs more cheerfully – voice fading at the end, a woman who shows her long neck with tidy black hair, a woman who has a graceful curve, a woman who reveals herself but not her whole self, a woman who conceals sorrow in her deep mind, a woman who casts out the sorrow and carves an image of a rose upon it, and who fold it twice and send it in mail, a woman who believes 'love is a choice,' a woman who stands alone after many choices, a woman who hears the sound of time waves through loneliness, a woman who becomes a blue blossom with touching fire on her wound, softly and uprightly.

In the florist, there lives a baby cat called Nana.




Nana Story – 2


Sunrays break down slowly.
Through thin and long rays my old car Excel speeds up.
Well, look
The light bounding like raindrops. I speed up to catch its bright longing.
A huge mount is in town where Nana lives, so I know that I cannot go there without a full hand or body.
I pack up well-dried drops, well-ripped sounds and well-massed tongues in the trunk.
I pass Wolgot.
I pass salt barns.
I pass a crossway straight at Seochang interchange.
Many faces I met by chance in my way are closing quickly, and then retreating slowly.
Maybe this way is an emergency exit to the bright end of the world.
Or, maybe it is the only escape to death.
Like Nana I am sad or happy.
Provisions given to me, gloom or delight. Like an animal hung on a cliff I am turning dry bit by bit.
Dusted love, it is mine, not others’.


        * Wolgot, Seochang : small towns. We can see many old
        salt barns, which is not using now, in a plain between
        two towns




Nana Story – 3


It was too late. On a hot summer day we spent on the island, something happened to the cat Nana.

We could see the black bow of a ship anchored in the wharfside. And that is all. Once in a while car headlights used to rock up and down into the empty sky over the isolated sea through heavy rain.

We found a road sign at the end. About eight miles of unpaved road passing by Jeondung Temple, we met a swimming beach. Evening sunshine came down flutteringly. Yellow sea water rushed upon down us, then it became dark blue. Empty spaces sprouted up.

A vet lay down the cat and inspected it carefully, and said that it had broken ribs and an intestinal disorder. And he said it had to go under the knife. She might be dead. Nana moaned and groaned.

There is no one who can divide this world with a stroke into two realms, the good and the bad. All pleasure and all despair are mixed up in tangled thread, and connect gaps between men and men, men and animals or plants, and men and the universe. It is a strong chain, or a violence. It is an adultery, or an illicit love.

We went to the island in order to cover our longing with a thick coat, or to wash the longing out, but the sea gives no answer. It is a miracle that Nana is still alive now.


         * Jeondung Temple – a buddhist temple at Kangwha
           Island in the West Sea of Korea




The Clear End


Here is not Nana, now.
As everything in the world leaves traces when it disappears,
Nana was erased with deep trembling.
Whenever I miss madly,
I go to the salt-barn at midnight.
There I can still find pieced tiles, and hear the cat voice
Hovering like wind over low weeds.
And I see the earliest dawn.




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