“My soul years for something infinite as
that of children frolicking on the riverbank.
Tell me what it is you are craving for, where you
are headed. I am impatient to know.
Soaked in the smell of the greening earth
I walk all day long limping between the green of sorrow
and joy as if possessed by the spirit of spring.
But now that the land is no more our own
spring can no longer be our own.”
―
Yi Sang-hwa,
Does Spring Come Also to These Ravished Fields?