Mantis 22 (Summer 2024)
Disillusion; Dissolution
Park Joon
초복
동네 사람들에게는 토종닭을 주고 타지 사람들에게는 미리
풀어놓은 폐계를 잡아 주던 삼거리 닭집 진용이네
같은 반을 하는 내내 도시락 반찬으로 닭고기를 싸 오던 진용이는
닭이 물리지 않는다고 했다
미용을 배우던 진용이는 일찍 동네를 떠났고 배달을 도맡아
하던 진용이네 아주머니는 두 해 전 초복, 빗길
위에서 오토바이를 몰다 떠났다
자주 취해 있던 진용이네 아저씨는 나를 알아보지 못 했는지
토종닭을 구별하지 못했는지 간혹 내게 폐계를
주었다
한번은 사 온 닭을 전기솥으로 삶은 적도 있었다 뜸이 들다가도
보온으로 넘어가는 전기솥 탓일까 혹은 그날도
폐계를 받아 온 것일까 닭은 밑도 없이 질겼다 이제 전기솥은 고칠
만한 곳을 찾지 못하면 버릴 만한 날을 찾을
것이다
설익은 밥을 물에 말아 먹는 것으로 복달임을 대신한다
진용이는 인천 어디에 있다는 미용실에서 백숙처럼
흰 손으로 사람의 머리털을 자르고 있을 것이다 한참을
자르다가도 멈춰 서서 이 여름 저녁으로 밀려드는 질긴
것들을 물끄러미 바라볼 것이다
Originally published in We May See the Rainy Season Together by Moonji Publishing Co., Ltd.
처서
앞집에 살던 염장이는
평소 도장을 파면서 생계를 이어가다
사람이 죽어야 집 밖으로 나왔다
죽은 사람이 입던 옷들을 가져와
지붕에 빨아 너는 것도 그의 일이었다
바람이 많이 불던 날에는
속옷이며 광목 셔츠 같은 것들이
우리가 살던 집 마당으로 날아 들어왔다
마루로 나와 앉은 당신과 나는
희고 붉고 검고 하던 그 옷들의 색을
눈에 넣으며 여름의 끝을 보냈다
Originally published in We May See the Rainy Season Together by Moonji Publishing Co., Ltd.
Early Mid-Summer
Jinyong’s parents owned a chicken restaurant at the intersection, served local chicken to villagers and aged chicken to visitors. When we were in the same class, Jinyong brought chicken for lunch every day. He said he never got sick of chicken.
Jinyong trained as a hairdresser, left the neighborhood early. His mother who’d been in charge of the delivery died two years ago, driving her motorcycle on a rainy road.
Jinyong’s father was often drunk. He either didn’t recognize me or couldn’t tell a local chicken from an aged one and sometimes sold me aged chicken.
One time I steamed the chicken in a pressure cooker. Maybe it was because of the insulation or I got another aged chicken that day, but it was extremely tough. Now the pot is waiting to be disposed of unless I find a place that can fix it.
Instead of having hot soup to relieve the summer heat, I eat undercooked rice dumped in hot water. Fingers white as boiled chicken, Jinyong must be cutting human hair at a salon somewhere in Incheon. He’ll cut for a while then pause to stare at the tough things rolling into this summer evening.
translated from Korean by Susan K
End of Summer
The mortician who lived across the street
made a living carving stamps and
only left his house when someone died.
It was also his job to wash the clothes of the deceased,
hang them on the rooftop.
On windy days
underwear and cotton shirts
flew into our yard.
Sitting on the porch, you and I
fixed the white, red, black of those clothes into our eyes
as we spent the last of the summer.
translated from Korean by Susan K
PARK JOON made his debut in 2008 through Silchon Munhak. His first poetry collection I Took Your Name and Ate It for Some Days was a bestseller that sold over 100,000 copies in South Korea alone, ranking ninth among bestselling poetry collections on Interpark Books for five years. He won the Park Jaesam Literature Award and the Pyeon-un Literature Award in 2019, and the Shin Dong-yup Prize for Literature in 2013. Apart from the two poetry collections, he has co-authored five different anthologies and published the essay collection Though Crying Won’t Change a Thing that won the Prize for Young Artists.
SUSAN K received her BA in English Literature and Linguistics at the University of Toronto. She has completed the Literature Translation fellowship program and the Media Translation fellowship program at the Literature Translation Institute of Korea and currently works as a full-time freelance translator of Korean literature, web comics, films, and cultural contents into English. In 2021, she received two grants from the LTI to translate Korean poetry into English: Park Soran’s One Person’s Closed Door and Park Joon’s We Could See the Monsoon Together. She translated Jeong Wooshin’s poetry collection I’ll Give You All My Promenade (Asia Publishers, 2022), and co-translated Kim Haengsook’s Human Time (Black Ocean, 2023).