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Five Poems

Five Poems Five Po e ms b y S o ng C h'an- h o Translated by Wayne de Fremery An old tale ta k en fro m a tru n k Our house has some awfully old smudges. Scrub and scrub and still the smell of pale yellow-- pale yellow stains, the unremembered are oldest in our house. The forgotten, rustling, smell of mint. Want some candy, little one? No thank you, Grandma, you've been dead ten years! C amellia Why would those folks drag their boats into the hills? The skate is ripe, too ripe, the hootch already gone from the jars. With their little mudskippers in the buck in tow and briny salt sacks stowed, why would they weave paths through rough reeds and trees for the hills, the hills? In the name of that flower, some other shore? Along a path to see it, along a path through mountain passages, singing and crying, they row into the hills. The skate is ripe, too ripe, inland spring gone too. Why would they want to walk these mountain trails? I picked a rock from the path and placed it on a pile of other prayers-- a camellia with http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Azalea: Journal of Korean Literature & Culture University of Hawai'I Press

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Publisher
University of Hawai'I Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2007 President and Fellows of Harvard College
ISSN
1944-6500
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

Five Po e ms b y S o ng C h'an- h o Translated by Wayne de Fremery An old tale ta k en fro m a tru n k Our house has some awfully old smudges. Scrub and scrub and still the smell of pale yellow-- pale yellow stains, the unremembered are oldest in our house. The forgotten, rustling, smell of mint. Want some candy, little one? No thank you, Grandma, you've been dead ten years! C amellia Why would those folks drag their boats into the hills? The skate is ripe, too ripe, the hootch already gone from the jars. With their little mudskippers in the buck in tow and briny salt sacks stowed, why would they weave paths through rough reeds and trees for the hills, the hills? In the name of that flower, some other shore? Along a path to see it, along a path through mountain passages, singing and crying, they row into the hills. The skate is ripe, too ripe, inland spring gone too. Why would they want to walk these mountain trails? I picked a rock from the path and placed it on a pile of other prayers-- a camellia with

Journal

Azalea: Journal of Korean Literature & CultureUniversity of Hawai'I Press

Published: May 1, 2007

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