Night I Count the Stars

In the skies with passing seasons
It’s full of the autumn.

Without any worries
I plan on counting all the stars in the autumn sky.

The one or two stars I hold in my heart
The reason I can’t count them
Is it because I realize the morning is coming,
Or it is because I realize I have tomorrow night as well,
It’s because I realize that my youth has yet to pass.

One star the memories
One star the love
One star the loneliness
One star the adoration
One star the poem
One star Mother, Mother

Mother, in one star, I say a beautiful thing at a time.
The names of the students I shared a table with in elementary school, Pe, Kyung, Ock, the names of these foreign students, the name of girls who already became mothers, the names of poor people, pigeons, puppies, rabbits, mule, deer, Fransis Jammes, Reiner, Maria, Rilke, I call out the names of these poets.

They are all so far away from me.
Just like how the stars are

Mother,
And you are far away in Bukgando.

I miss something
On top of this hill covered with so many star lights
I write my name, 
And covered it with dirt.

In its own way, the bug that stays up crying throughout the night
It realizes the embarrassing truth of its name.

But when the winter passes and the spring finds its way to my stars,
Like the green blades of grass growing on a grave mound
On top of the hill with my name written
The grass will grow proudly and flourish