Choi Seungja
Translated from the Korean by Won-Chung Kim & Cathy Park Hong
Already I was nothing:
mold formed on stale bread,
trail of piss stains on the wall,
a maggot-covered corpse
a thousand years old.

Nobody raised me.
I was nothing from the beginning,
sleeping in a rat’s hole,
nibbling on the flea’s liver,
dying absentmindedly, in any old place.

So don’t say you know me
when we cross paths
like falling stars.
Idon’tknowyou, Idon’tknow you,
You, thou, there, Happiness
You, thou, there, Love.

That I am alive
is no more than an endless
rumor.
from the book PHONE BELLS KEEP RINGING FOR ME / Action Books
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"Margaret Atwood does not do nostalgia. This collection of poems, her first in over 10 years, is a reckoning with the past that comes from a place of wisdom and control. Now 81, she harnesses the experience of a lifetime to assume a wry distance from her subjects—as if, in an astounding world, nothing could throw her off balance."

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What Sparks Poetry:
Matvei Yankelevich on "Rug/Hydrangea"

"Interpretation in this case has to do as much with the author’s historical context and (contextually-bound) poetics as it does with the gist of a phrase, a line, or any semantic or aesthetic unit. The tricky thing is to enact the poem within the scope of the interpretation. It is this tension between interpretation (contextual meaning) and performance (the gesture, the gist) that constitutes a translation."
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