One Beautiful Spring Day Poem by Suchoon Mo

it was a very beautiful spring day
I was sitting at the top of a Korean mountain
smoking a cigarette
thinking about nothing
indifferent to my exposure
to the enemy observers
with telescopes and binoculars
eager searching eyes

I was tired
I needed to feel the sun light
to smell the air
to see the sky and the clouds
and waves of the mountain range
to be at peace with myself


the enemy decided to fire mortars
screaming shells came flying
over my head
and blew up in the valley below
the maddening echo of an insane commotion
so ridiculous in such a tranquil day

I finished smoking and watched the show
the futile fury of bombardment
the meaningless sound of explosion
the meaningless futility of fury of war
staged by inept mortar men
directed by cross-eyed observers

later I was told in seriousness
they managed to fire three hundred rounds
what was the target and why?
I never asked
the enemy fired mortars
that was their problem and not mine
they had a job to do
I had none
I was quite tired