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The sea
dies, too. When I see the faces of
a tortured people crushing like a sand
dune, I know it. When
I see the hollow eyes stained with tears, I
know it. In the eyes, the
unmoving bogs, without luster, the
sea was dead. Grinning with white teeth, the
sea comes running like a hyena. Rushing
in dark bulk, the sea breaks in
sending up a white spray. Like leaves
of the tree in early summer, the sea
waves thousands hands. The sea goes
on rolling over the grass fields of faint
memories of the desert inhabitants, like
the parched river-bottom.
Translated
by Jeo-youn Noh

<
A note on the Poetess >
Dr. Huh was
born in Daegu in March 1932. He was educated in Medicine
at the Medical College of Kyungpuk National University
and specialized in pathology. In 1997, he retired from
his professorship at the Medical College of Kosin University
in Busan. Dr. Huh entered the literary
world through Munhakyesul in 1957. Since then, he has
published two volumes of verses. The latest volume titled
Rain dies in a vertical standing was published in 1999.
He was awarded Korean Poets¡¯ Association prize in 2000.

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