Blooming, Bloomed, Withered

by Lee Wonha, translated from Korean by Gene Png

First published in The Hyacinth Review on 7 May 2022. The original Korean poem 필 꽃 핀 꽃 진 꽃 is from 제주에서 혼자 살고 술은 약해요, or I Live in Jeju and Can’t Hold My Drink (2020), by Lee Wonha. Click the arrow (>) to learn more about this piece.

Because I was born in spring, I thought that I’d like to live in a place where it’s always spring. I moved to an island where flowers bloom throughout the year, a flower pot in the middle of the sea.

I first lived in a house beside the hydrangeas. Then, when the time came, I found myself beside hibiscuses, then camellias, and then reeds, beside hues of orange, in between waves.

In a place where flowers were always in bloom, I thought that it would always be spring, but things melted and it was oddly refreshing. Once or twice now, after the freezing cold, I’ve felt the rush of warmth.

When I opened the refrigerator, looking for something to eat, I thought about things that have withered before catching myself.

I ate as if I’d fallen into a flower that has yet to bloom and felt a breathtaking safety that only lasted a while.

My fullness slid from atop the flower that has bloomed.

To walk it off, I left to throw out some flowers that have withered. It was only when I returned

that I finally realized.

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Gene Png is a literary translator and illustrator from Singapore, currently based in Seoul. She attended the regular program at LTI Korea and is the 2022–23 National Centre for Writing Korean prose mentee. She was recently awarded the grand prize in poetry at the 53rd Modern Korean Literature Translation Awards.

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