YI, Mun-Yol

The Poet

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Memories of the many hard and bitter times he had shared with his brother made him shed frequent tears along his homeward way. The twenty years between that winter evening when he was four and his departure from Oduni passed in succession before his eyes, making his heart ache.

Birds at dusk perch to sleep on a single bough.

At daybreak one by one each goes its separate ways.

Don't you see? Human life follows selfsame laws.

What's the use of soaking your sleeves with tears?

He tried to console himself with such old verses but as soon as a new memory of his brother's face loomed up, he could not help bursting into tears again. He hastened on, heedless of nightfall, but on arriving home he found something at least as deeply shocking as his brother's death waiting for him.

His mother, who was approaching fifty by now, had one day suddenly left and returned to her family home at Hongsong in Chungchong Province.

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Son of Man

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"He was tired of our god who never smiled or grew angry, who was never happy or sad, who never rebuked or praised; he came to think that actions disengaged from any notion of good or evil - evil without punishment, and good without reward- were all equally hollow."

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Our Twisted Hero

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My sudden tears now changed to uncontrollable sobs. As I clung to the window, I heard someone nearby call my name. I wiped away my tears and looked in the direction of the sound. Sokdae, leaving the others at some distance, had come over alone beneath the window and was looking up at me. His face seemed generous and merciful like never before.

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What was rightfully yours was taken from you and you weren't even angry. You bent to unjust power and you weren't ashamed... ...If you continue to live like that, the pain you will bear in the future will be so great, the beating I gave you today won't even compare

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