The Sunken Ship

The day after the storm
The sea was too quiet
Quiet like that does not come free

I went out at dawn to read the water routes
You have to read a sea a storm has changed
The sand on the shoal had moved
And a familiar rock stood in an unfamiliar place
And then I saw it, at the end of the ebb
A single black bow risen out of the water
The ship I'd heard about in rumours for ten years
It was there. As if it had waited for me.

The sunken ship, the sunken ship
The secret the sea spat out
The sunken ship, the sunken ship
Pretending not to know ends here

I rowed closer
My heart beat faster than a janggu
A government brand on the split hull
Seaweed growing on the broken mast
Ten years ago, the night this ship went down
The old fisherman's elder son was in that water
They say the old man prayed inside the storm
If you have something to give back, give it back
The sea has answered
This bow is the answer

The sunken ship, the sunken ship
The secret the sea spat out
The sunken ship, the sunken ship
Pretending not to know ends here

All my life I lived pretending not to know
Because a man who knows too much does not live long
So why does the oar not stop
Why does the bow keep turning that way
I know what is down there
Government documents, and human bones
I cannot dive. I am a man of the land.
But I know a woman who dives
A woman whose breath-sound is unusually clear
A woman who knows the sea floor like her own yard

I will tell the scholar
Because judging is the work of one who knows letters
I will ask the diver
Because going down is the work of one who knows water
I will row the boat
Because that is all I know

The sunken ship, the sunken ship
The secret the sea spat out
The sunken ship, the sunken ship
The pretending is over

For ten years I called it the wind
From today I cannot call it the wind
The bow is facing north
I am the one who rowed it there