빈 집

                       김민수

종기처럼 그을린 마을이 늙을 때마다

빈 집 하나씩 늘어갑니다

허전한 맘에 빗물은 아무데서나 울며 흘러가고

꼭두새벽 소죽 끓이며 아침을 열던 부엌도

밖으로 나와 하늘만 봅니다

관절염처럼 삭여진 기둥 웅이에

마파람 설렁설렁 드나들어 휘어지고

지붕은 어느새 어깨까지 내려찍으며 힘들뿐입니다

궁핍한 삶을 고스란히 찍어두었던 형광등도

깜빡거릴 기력도 없고

구석마다 참견하던 햇살도

추하게 널브러진 마당에 안쓰럽게 서성입니다

평생을 품안에 안고팠던 담장은

어느 날부터 시름 누워 있고

문패 하나 세우지 못한 죄로 대문은 충혈되어

세월의 녹만 멍처럼 번집니다.

Deserted Houses

                                                 Kim Min-su

Whenever a village, black as a sore, gets older

deserted houses increase in number, one by one.

In empty hearts rain flows weeping evrywhere,

while kitchens that onec saw in the morning boiling cattle feed at crack of dawn

come outside and just stare at the sky.

The knots of pillars stiff like arthritis

bend in the soft passing of the south wind

until the roof is brought down to the height pf the should, straining.

the fluorescent lamp that once captured needy needy lives just as they were

has not even the vigour to flieker now

and the sunbeams that once peobed every coenr

only hang around pathetically in the unsightly, sprawling garden.

The garden wall that embraced a whole lifetime within its bosom

from some day or other lies overwhelmed on the ground

while the front gate grows bloodshot, guilty of failing to bear a nameplate,

and the rust of time spreads like a bruise.