Poetess Ms. Ah Young Lee was born in Sangju, Gyeongsangbuk-do, and completed the creative writing course at Chung-Ang University’s Graduate School of Arts. She made her debut in the quarterly magazine ‘Free Literature’ in 2001. She served as a director of the Free Literature Society, a member of the traditional culture committee of the Korean Contemporary Poets Association, an executive of the Korean Contemporary Poets Association, and an executive of the Open Poetry Society. She has been active as a member of the Korean Literary Association, a steering committee member of the Buddhist Literary Writers’ Association, an advisory member of the Chung-Ang University Literary Association, and an advisory member of the Continental Literary Association. Additionally, she is a member of the Korean Writers’ Association, the Ieodo Literary Association, an executive of the Gangbuk Branch of the Korean Literature Association, and the vice president of the Korean Association of the World Literature Association. She has published poetry collections such as 『A Globe in the stone mortar』, 『Bamboo Rain on Flower Day』, and 『Chickweed Root Moss』. She won the Pure Literature Award and the Open Poetry Award.
Bird Footprints
In the snowy yard,
New footprints are clearly marked.
A guest came early in the morning
The longing of a mother who left far away,
The longing of a husband who left first,
You came in my dream and left your footprints.
Every year, when the sunberry fruit grows in the rooftop flowerpot,
A bird chirps in the rooftop,
Enjoying the fruit.
The little bird ate five or six of the longing fruits without greed.
Today is the day I feel like I know
The reason the bird flies high in the western sky.
It’s snowing,
Even in the forest,
Even on top of a mansion higher than the trees.
White longing is piling up.
Zosterops erythropleurus
At the fountain in the camellia forest in the city park,
The little bird stands alone.
It takes a few sips of water,
Immersed in deep thought.
A greenish-yellow little bird that loves camellia flowers,
Flapping its two wings,
Finishes taking a bath.
It soars up,
Heading into the ‘House of Meditation.’
Fewer people go to and from the park.
When the evening scenery creeps in,
A single camellia flower falls in its entirety
On the top of my feet in meditation.
Everything in this world changes.
You must not miss the moment; feel it.
A spoonful of questions sticks in my mouth.
I can’t understand the deep meaning of the Zen question and answer.
