Each day it comes andwakes us up andorders us to practiceThere is a way to die like thisLike this, to get up and stretch outEat to fill and explode the stomach like thisGo out of breath from delight heehee like thisIn hopeless conversationsshared words are cut off just asthe pulse is lost like thisThere is too a way to die like thisEach day it comes andputs us to sleep andorders us to practice againWhile hiding a heart so indecentit mumbles words of blessing
Practice
Kim Hyesoon
Translated from the Korean by Cindy Juyoung Ok
Feature Date
Series
- Translation
Selected By
Share This Poem
Print This Poem
“Practice” from The Hell of That Star © 1988 by Kim Hyesoon, translated by Cindy Juyoung Ok. Revised edition © 2017 by Moonji Publising Co. Ltd.Translation © 2026 by Cindy Juyoung Ok. Published by Wesleyan University Press. Used with permission.
Kim Hyesoon has published fourteen poetry collections in Korean, which have been translated into several languages. A recipient of the Kim Suyeong and Midang awards in South Korea, she has more recently won the Ho-Am Prize in the Arts, the Griffin Poetry Prize, and the Cikada Prize. Kim lives in Seoul and taught creative writing at the Seoul Institute of the Arts.
Middletown, Connecticut
The astonishing poetry collection The Hell of That Star enlivens the horror of Korean life under U.S.-backed authoritarianism. Poems of blows and vomit, births and coffins alternate blithe confidence and trembling terror.
"Out of charred books, the censor's black coal tar, 'the whip of the word,' in The Hell of That Star Kim Hyesoon enacts one woman's experience of and resistance to the neocolonial U.S.-sponsored dictatorship in postwar South Korea, with its relentless censorship, police brutality, economic exploitation, and martial law. Kim imagines a 'language without language,' the placeless place of the 'midstness' of life and death, visceral, intestinal, with curse-words spat like seeds, pus seeping from eyes, a 'corpse heavier than the whole world', 'I—I—I—I—I.' Her fierce interrogations of empire and patriarchy, the grotesque violence and violations of a woman's life under an authoritarian regime, are embodied by an utterly original, unique voice—raw, sardonic, scatological, agonized, enacting the emotional extremity one finds in ancient tragedy. As Michael Scammell, commenting on Mikhail Sholokhov's The Quiet Don, observed: 'The greater the original, the more translations it can bear.' Kim Hyesoon is blessed to have as her collaborators in English brilliant poet-translators; Ok's translation is a work of true translatus, carrying-across Kim's ferocity and extremity into an English of commensurate intensity, inventiveness, and strangeness, restless in its questioning, transforming anguish and anger into expanding possibility."
—Suji Kwock Kim, author of Notes from the Divided Country and Notes from the North
Poetry Daily Depends on You
With your support, we make reading the best contemporary poetry a treasured daily experience. Consider a contribution today.
