Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid
Spring Garlic by Jung Kut-byol
Like an obscenity, like a clenched fist,
a white garlic clove writhes;
I rub my burning eyes.
The breath-taking intensity
careens like an explosion:
dark green spring garlic mixed with pepper paste
between lettuce and pepper–
the garlic flower of Namdo, South Province,
white with a garlic scent.
Oh, the fresh spring night.
Feel the sensuous energy
that rolls up–
not a flower,
not a plant.
Shhh! Shhh!
See how it spews its venom, courageous,
like a guerilla, into the spring sea.
Spring garlic mixed with pepper paste
between lettuce and green pepper–
the Namdo seed garlic, white with a garlic scent.
Jung Kut-byol (1964-) was born in Naju, Jeollanam-do. She is a professor of Korean literature at Myungju University in Seoul. Working as both a poet and a critic, she has published four poetry collections: My Life: a Birch Tree (1996), A White Book (2000), An Old Man’s Vitality (2005) and Suddenly (2008), along with two collections of critical essays: The Poetics of Parody (1997) and The Language of Poetry Has a Thousand Tongues (2008). She has also edited an anthology entitled In Anyone’s Heart, Wouldn’t a Poem Bloom?: 100 Favorite Poems Recommended by 100 Korean Poets (2008).
Nice work on this, JP!
Almost every day Geraud or I. or noth of us, peel and smash fresh garlic cloves, inhale the bright and rich scent, anticipate the smooth, waxy, deep, pinching flavor . . .