The market burned
When the soldiers came, only I got out
Why was it me
I turned my back on Hanyang and walked south
Threw away the mask. Threw away the drum.
Bare face, empty hands, standing on the road
If I am not a clown, what am I
In the first village I was given a cup of water
A woman asked me where I had come from
From the capital. What happened there.
I opened my mouth and the tears came first
I have to tell about that night
Because someone has to remember
The scholar is dead
His writing stayed in my mouth
I walk, from village to village
Walking with one shadow beside me
I speak, from person to person
I tell the story of the dead
The clown is dead
The storyteller was born
The laughter is gone
Truth sits in its place
In a tavern in Gyeongsang I met a farmer
"I know that gentleman. The one who wrote."
"That writing that came up from Jeju — I read it."
I nodded. He has passed away.
The farmer set down his cup
He was silent a long while
And then he said, I remember that writing
I read it to my son as well
In that moment I understood
The scholar's ink had not dried
It was still flowing — through my mouth
Passing Songni Mountain I saw the hermitage
A nun came down and handed me a cup of tea
Snow fell on her shaved head
We smiled without speaking. We knew each other.
I walk, from village to village
Walking with one shadow beside me
I speak, from person to person
I tell the story of the dead
The clown is dead
The storyteller was born
The laughter is gone
Truth sits in its place
Sometimes at night, alone by a fire
I hear the scholar's voice
"What you cannot kill is a thought"
And I hear the shouting of the market
"The market street, the market street"
That sound still rings in my ears
I survived
Whether that is a blessing or a punishment I still don't know
I only walk
Because the story is not finished
I walk, from village to village
Even when this road ends, the story remains
I speak, from person to person
Planting them one at a time, like seeds
The clown is dead
The storyteller will die one day too
But the story
The story never stops walking
One step
And another step
The road does not end