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Poems in Scotland, 2014

DATE: 9 April — 30 April 2014
PLACE: Edinburgh, Nethy Bridge

A method of kiss

A large room, A high window,
A big fireplace, A heavy door.
It must have been such an imposing castle
as to incapable entering with a poet whistling.

She must have cried in the corner of the room,
thought of a lover at the window,
touched his finger in front of the fireplace
and they must have whispered to each other through the door.
Our wishes will never change to live any imposing castle.
A method of kiss will do too for five hundred years.

(Craigmillar Castle, Edinburgh)

Arthur’s Seat

There is no sign that being easy to understand.
I walk on the grass while finding few beaten paths.
The sign says “Danger” but doesn’t say “Never Go”.
At some forks, I take the right path save four, and two.

A loose muddy slope, a crumbling sandy stairway,
and a path covered by thorny thickets.
I ask to an old man which way is the safest one,
but he doesn’t answer about it, and only says “Come on”.
His dog passes me without looking to right or left.
Can I arrive at the answer? Anyhow, let’s go.

The top of the mountain is named Arthur’s Seat.
It kicks many immature men down,
and admits men who hope and live their own life.
However, Arthur will have left when you arrive there.
“I keep going my way, therefore I’ll be my only Arthur.”

(Arthur’s Seat, Edinburgh)

Circus Lane

Should we open wings on the ground?
Or should we hide under the ground?
We couldn’t make up our mind.
In the meantime,
fortune and misfortune came down one after another,
and so we hinged doors in a panic.
Because of that, our doors are still small
and our living rooms are under the horizon.
Come to think of us, we all used to pass the ages
while turning around the same maze.
We used to hope to flow like rivers,
but our life may look like whirlpools in bird’s eye.
Answer is always at the bottom of the circle.
A lane in front of our houses goes on forever,
and it never arrive at the midpoint.
So, we named it Circus lane after ourselves like clowns.

(Circus Lane, Edinburgh)


appears a spring
in your eyes,
and it trembles
through the sand.
You gazes at me,
and says to me
“Live honestly.”

A waterfall
is sobbing
outside my window.
Though you’re not my mother,
you’re warm-hearted.
Though you’re not my mentor,
you’re generous to me.
Because you
believe in me.

You and Me
We were
once rain,
fell on
distant meadows.
Now, we’re
white ripples
splashing together.
is waving
in a sea.

(Candlemaker Row, Edinburgh)


The fog
is flowing
through the land
like cream.
A second
is losing the time
between a moment
and a life.

A loch
was just now
beyond a pier,
but now it isn’t.
It is stolen
its only name,
now asleep
under a white sheet.

A window
is wet with the fog,
I feel empty.
Was my anything
swallowed up in the fog?
A herd of deer
having beautiful antler
ran into the fog.

(in a train, Highlands)