Korean Short Stories
Hwang Byungsng Melancholy Walnut Pie 멜랑콜리 호두파이 Translated by Lee Hyeongjin
Information This work was previously published in New Writing from Korea . Please contact the LTI Korea Library. library@klti.or.kr
Melancholy Walnut Pie When I suddenly woke up feeling hungry I felt sorry for the people I had left in my dream. Because of me, their journey in search of the rainbow hill must have been troublesome. Butterfly! Butterfly! Outside the window someone is anxiously calling a cat named Butterfly. I said, meow, meow, here I am, and there I was, crying for no reason hiding under the quilt. Then I felt sorry for myself. Butterfly is Butterfly, what butterfly is a cat, and I closed the window with a bang. Would I be feeling bad if I'd been pricked by a thumbtack, a small, rusted thumbtack, been infected with tetanus, and forced to have my arm cut off? Days spent being stained by slow music, a hair comb, a single button, an old postcard, for no reason I began to dislike the things that await my touch, and buried them deep in the backyard. When snow falls and winds blow may grudges like spears grow someday out of the small graves here and there, and poke out my eyes. Around sunset, disliking those clouds sitting plump everywhere, today I bought a sweet, delicious walnut pie a sweet, delicious walnut pie that would slide in and melt in my mouth. When it dropped to the deep bottom of my stomach someone in a dark corner of the kitchen, unwillingly, said . . . love you. Copyright 2008 Literature Translation Institute of Korea
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