مجلة الكترونية مستقلة تعنى بشؤون الفكر والثقافة والأدب والفنون - رئيس التحرير: د.ازهر سليمان

منتدى كتّاب المنار الثقافية الدولية
Writings in English

Poems by Im Sol Nae

رسم توضيحي لامرأة ذات شعر مجعد ترتدي نظارات وقلادة وزينة أذن، يبدو عليها التعبير الإيجابي والطموح.

“The sky and the earth are my coffin, and the sun, moon, and stars are my burial gifts”

Zhuangzi once said.

I envied him.

I envied the silkworm

that sheds its stiff cocoon of flesh

to become a butterfly of the soul.

I envied Kübler-Ross,★

who cared for dying children,

carrying a plush caterpillar that, when flipped,

transformed into a butterfly,

a small miracle for her young patients.

But what moved me even more

was the final moment of her own funeral—

her children opening a small box before the coffin,

releasing butterflies into the air.

And when the mourners opened their envelopes,

blue butterflies fluttered out,

rising toward the sky.

What are we to do with such beauty?

★ Elisabeth Kübler-Ross: Swiss-born psychiatrist and world-renowned authority on thanatology (the study of death and dying).

Lights out, I slip into bed.

At dawn, craving a sip of water,

I find fireflies with blue-lit eyes drifting through the kitchen—

as if I’ve stepped into a forest of green moss and clear, rising springs.

Smartphone fireflies, kimchi-fridge fireflies,

vacuum cleaner fireflies, water purifier fireflies, boiler fireflies—

different in name, yet glowing in chorus.

On the wall, Van Gogh’s Starry Night burns bright;

Cypresses surge skyward, waves ripple and swell.

How I long to be shocked awake by that celestial light,

to be stunned by that radiant realm

where stories in our eyes bloom against the void.

Every cord trails like a tail, plugged into pig-nose sockets,

each one shining—

Into which socket must I fit

my shrunken tailbone, relic of our decline,

to blaze, round and full, like a ten-month sun?

Would blue fireflies flicker through my body then?

Would the Ganges of millennia within me

spill into a galaxy of blue stars?

Would the fireflies, imprisoned in my flesh,

ride a hundred thousand volts and cry,

“This is the moment!”—breaking free?

Ah, the tender mountain breeze—

Shawshank Redemption!

Lonely happiness, freedom—

I must have yearned to fasten myself to that eternity.

* Shawshank Redemption: Frank Darabont’s 1994 film, starring Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman, a story of an unquenchable longing for freedom.

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