Translation by Shirley Lee
She was desolate.
‘I am Selling My Daughter for 100 Won.’
With that placard on her neck
with her daughter by her side
the woman standing in the market place –
she was mute.
People looked at the daughter being sold
and the mother who was selling.
The people cast their curses at them
but keeping her eyes downcast
she was tearless.
Even when the daughter
wrapped herself
in her mother’s skirt
shouting, screaming
that her mother was dying
the woman kept her lips
tight and trembled –
she did not know how to be grateful.
‘I’m not buying the daughter
I want to buy her motherly love.’
That soldier came by
with a 100 won note in his hand.
The woman who ran off with the money,
she was a mother.
With the money
she got for her daughter
she bought a loaf of bread
and put a chunk of bread
in her daughter’s mouth
as they said goodbye.
‘Forgive me,’ she cried.
She was desolate.