[52nd Korea Times Translation Awards] Poetry Grand Prize: "The Assassination of Peter Rabbit"

Cover of "The Assassination of Peter Rabbit" by Yu Hyoung-jin / Courtesy of Munhakdongne

Written by Yu Hyoung-Jin
Translated by Joanne Park

I'm a Wind Billowing at the Mast of a Dazzling Ship Docked at a 17th Century Spanish Port

I lie down in the quiet backyard of a mountain temple and try to fall sleep next to a mouse hole.
This hole, frequented by a mouse living in a temple with nothing to eat, might as well be a black hole.
Having brushed past the hem of a monk's robe, the desolate clink of wind chimes sweeps across my back.
I follow the mouse into the jet-black hole,
as narrow and dark as the first path that brought us into this world.
I am a long, sleek snake.
The mouse runs away in spurred riding boots.
The passage ends at a subtropical swamp.
At the other end of the swamp, a hunter is smoking a cigar.
The mouse in riding boots is nowhere to be seen, and
I'm a water buffalo captured by the hunter.
The moment his eyes drift towards a sandpiper
I gore him in his waist and run off.
Fresh blood hangs from my horns like red flowers on a cactus.
I run and run. When the cactus flowers wither, I'm
an African buffalo, a hungry leopard, the pet animal of an Egyptian princess.
After watching the 365,001st sunset, I leave her side.
I cross a mountain pass that cannot be crossed back
to arrive at a raining forest trail. Now I'm a dreaming bracken.
Curled up beside an oak tree, I'm
a pebble dropped by lost kids,
a land breeze submerged in a stream. I'm
a wind billowing at the mast of a dazzling ship
docked at a 17th century Spanish port.

Mermaid Restaurant

#1
While the greengrocers Bang Jeongsik and Lim Oksun are out working, their kids play with fire. Under a window that only shows people's ankles, in a room that gets sunlight for thirty minutes a day, their cries sink into the mouldy violet-patterned wallpaper. Blazing violets are in full bloom one Sunday evening, when a steakhouse serves roast beef tenderloin grown in Sobaek Mountain. Photosynthetic cows raised on plenty of sun and clean air produce top quality meat. At a table adorned with top quality cow horns sit kids who have indigo knees and pink sleeves and their parents, Kim Juman and Ha Miran, chewing steak cuts oozing blue juice. You have a class reunion next week, my dear. Where? At Mermaid Restaurant.

52nd Korea Times Translation AwardsJudges' Report

2021-11-23 11:59 | People & Events

52nd Korea Times Translation AwardsPoetry Grand Prize winner Joanne Park

2021-11-23 11:58 | People & Events

#2
We only offer mermaids caught along the Pacific shores. Mermaids are difficult to slice raw because they have claw-like scales on the tail, says the chef whose livelihood would be ruined if he chipped his expensive knife. He serves red sauce to diners who've ordered raw sliced mermaid. Complimentary side dish: our specialty, melted mermaid liver. People mix red liver into soy sauce as they talk about the October Revolution. Did you see that show last night? They say October is the best month to stage a revolution. Ah yes, the YTV special documentary. No wonder―the Antichrist is supposed to be born in October, as well. Why isn't he here yet? They loosen their ties, tough as whale tendons, and dip sliced raw mermaid in the sauce. Red liquid runs down their chin.

#3
What do you do with the mermaids' upper half? We store it in the freezer before sending it to Vladivostok Port. South Pacific mermaid is all the rage among Arctic sled dogs. Who is your distributor? I use AMEX. Biggest chain in the world. I see. I work at KOEX. We're trying to attract AMEX customers. Our distribution cost is half their price! Ah, what a nationalistic company! The chef takes the KOEX employee's glossy business card with a gaping red laugh.

The Assassination of Peter Rabbit
― The witness

That night the moon was the colour of strawberries and there were no clouds. A pale blue halo surrounded the moon and a dog barked in the distance. Who knows if it was white or yellow. And a katydid was singing in the damp grass. He showed up wearing a blue velvet vest and plain leather shoes. The vest had three pockets: one of them had a pocket watch, protective glasses were tucked into another, and the last one held cigarettes. He checked the time, put on his glasses and put a cigarette in his mouth in a series of smooth actions, like he knew where his things were kept. It looked like a habit repeated for a hundred years ― one look was enough to turn me into something like a built-in shoe cabinet in the museum. When he broke the ice saying, "It hasn't come back yet, right?" I didn't have anything to say. He showed me his watch. it was 9:53. I stood there puzzled, not knowing what to make of it. He slid his glasses onto my nose and showed me his watch again His watch was ticking towards 9:50. He'd been asking after a time that hadn't come back yet. We shared a peppermint flavoured cigarette and went our ways. When the wind changed directions and ruffled up my hair, a katydid was dying beneath my foot. It didn't sing anymore, and a full moon hung in the sky like a gun muzzle.