The following piece has been translated to English by Gene Png from the original Korean poem by Lee Wonha
Because I was born in spring, I thought that I’d like to live
in a place where it’s always spring.
I moved to an island where flowers bloom throughout the year,
a flower pot in the middle of the sea.
I first lived in a house beside the hydrangeas.
Then, when the time came,
I found myself beside hibiscuses,
then camellias, and then reeds,
beside hues of orange, in between waves.
In a place where flowers were always in bloom,
I thought that it would always be spring,
but things melted and it was oddly refreshing.
Once or twice now, after the freezing cold,
I’ve felt the rush of warmth.
When I opened the refrigerator, looking for something to eat,
I thought about things that have withered before catching myself.
I ate as if I’d fallen into a flower that has yet to bloom
and felt a breathtaking safety that only lasted a while.
My fullness slid
from atop the flower that has bloomed.
To walk it off, I left
to throw out some flowers that have withered.
It was only when I returned
that I finally realized.
