Poems of Poetess Dr. Siyoung Doung (South Korea)

Poetess Dr. Siyoung Doung

Dr. Siyoung Doung is a Korean poet, literary scholar, and professor. She earned her Ph.D. in Korean Language and Literature from Hanyang University after graduating from Dongguk University, and further pursued humanities studies at the University of Regensburg in Germany. She has taught at Korea Tourism University and Jilin University of Finance and Economics.
 
Debuting as a poet in 2003, she has published numerous poetry collections and critical works, particularly in semiotics and modern Korean literature, along with travel essays. Her literary achievements have been recognized with major awards, including the Park Hwa-mok Literary Award, the Korean Buddhist Literature Grand Prize, the Dongguk Literary Award, and the Woltan Park Jong-hwa Literary Award. She also received a creative grant from Arts Council Korea.
 
Dr. Doung currently serves as the 5th President of the Korean Association of World Literature and lives in Seoul.
 
 
 
A Line Drawn Only Forward
 
Did sleep cut sleep, pressed under the shears of a nightmare
Or are these eyes that woke from a water-sleep inside the clouds
To see what, do they come with all color drained—
opening white eyes
 
If a tree did not raise its leaves,
on an autumn day
what would it cast away to go on living
 
If the heaven did not rear its snow,
on a winter day
what would it relinquish
to endure
 
And a human—what kind of leaves
must one grow,
then let fall, to live on
 
Living—a line drawn only forward.
 
An unfamiliar stranger,
as though sweeping fallen leaves,
is sweeping the snow.
 
 

 The Sea Flowing Within Tears

 
Water does not press itself down, sealed tight.
 
Water lets itself flow away
 
It overflows the vessel of the sky and falls as rain.
 
From valley to river, to the sea—it keeps on flowing.
 
When sorrow fills the heart, it too runs over as tears.
 
Water that has swelled from river to sea spills again within a tear.
 
In a single drop of tears, a river runs—
 
And the sea sways with it.
 

 
 
 
Handle
 
The world is an island of anonymity.
 
A name—
a handle made to be easily carried and used.
 
In a secondhand kitchenware shop,
still-usable pots are being washed clean—
as if they’re about to begin a new household.
 
A couple of men who have come out stripped of their titles,
like pots that have lost their handles,
stand there, vacant, watching.