Cold Poem by Kim Hyesoon

It was like I was inside the black-and-white photo of you looking back.
We stared at each other from different worlds.

It was always cold inside this photo of you.
Trees stood all along the river, coughing and coughing.

Whenever I opened my eyes, I was climbing a snowy mountain.

I would barely turn a corner and find fields of pure-white snow,
and an infinity of precipices jutting out beneath sharp cliffs.

There was an evening when I looked into your eyes, wide like a frozen sky.

In the village, a rumor spread about a ghost who would return to spread a fever,
so smokestacks shook their bodies helter-skelter over every chimney.

I drove you out completely. Now none of you lives inside me.

An avalanche shook inside my chest for over an hour.

When the trees coughed and snow fell off their bodies,
icicles shot up violent in the empty valley.

I sat down on a frozen bench
with my lips trembling and the wind across my face.

I wanted to get out of this place - this photo of you looking back.