실향민 김씨
정하선
오늘은 그 사람이 오지 않았다
무슨 일이라도 있는 것인가
와도 걱정 안 와도 걱정을
하는 내가 우습다
늦은 저녁시간 문 닫을 무렵이면
술 취해 들어와 깡소주 한 병 마시며
부모 버리고 혼자 내려온 것이 죄가 되어
외동자식 오토바이 사고로 죽었다며
울며불며 소주 값 열 배도 넘는 넋두리를
다 듣고 나면 내가 지쳐버리는 매일매일 저녁
안 오면 홀가분할 줄 알았는데
문 닫기를 미루고
정하선 시집(새재역에서)시산맥
ai 번역
Kim, the Displaced
By Jeong Ha-sun
Today, that person didn’t come. Could something have happened? I find myself ridiculous, Worrying whether he comes or not. Late in the evening, just before closing time, He would stagger in, drunk, Downing a bottle of soju, Lamenting how leaving his parents behind to come alone Had become his sin. His only child, Killed in a motorcycle accident. His wailing and rambling, Worth ten times the price of the soju, Would leave me exhausted every single night. I thought I’d feel relieved if he didn’t come. But here I am, delaying the closing of the store. From Jeong Ha-seon’s Poetry Collection, "At Saejae Station," Sisam Publishing House
Kim, l'Exilé
Par Jeong Ha-sun
Aujourd'hui, cette personne n'est pas venue. Se pourrait-il qu'il soit arrivé quelque chose ? Je me trouve ridicule, À m'inquiéter qu'il vienne ou non. Tard dans la soirée, juste avant l'heure de fermeture, Il titubait à l'intérieur, ivre, Avalant une bouteille de soju, Se lamentant d'avoir quitté ses parents pour venir seul, Ce qui était devenu son péché. Son enfant unique, Mort dans un accident de moto. Ses pleurs et ses divagations, Valant dix fois le prix du soju, Me laissaient épuisé chaque soir. Je pensais que je me sentirais soulagé s'il ne venait pas. Mais me voilà, retardant la fermeture du magasin. Extrait du recueil de poésie de Jeong Ha-seon, "À la station de Saejae," Éditions Sisam
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