I am twenty years-old and my name is Mihee
Little, I had moved
I have grown up and I have built my life
I am happy...
I am twenty Five and my name is Nathalie
Adult, I moved again
I have my life and I chose it
I am happy ...
I am thirty and my name is Cho-Shi
Now that I'm staying here
I have chosen, I rebuild my life
I am wondering ...
From these three Identities
Which one will I keep
Which one will remain
Which one will be the truth?
Saturday, January 1, 1994
Friday, January 1, 1993
Short Break (1993, Seoul)
Noises are the same
When we don't listen
People are not different
But I like them
Choice is not right
Irony of fate
Smell of death
That I taste
Roofs are not the same
Fields are different
The rice they sow
But I prefer them
Days could be the same
But they are longer
At the rhythm of a cafe-au-lait
I dive in ...
When we don't listen
People are not different
But I like them
Choice is not right
Irony of fate
Smell of death
That I taste
Roofs are not the same
Fields are different
The rice they sow
But I prefer them
Days could be the same
But they are longer
At the rhythm of a cafe-au-lait
I dive in ...
Saturday, August 1, 1992
To Korea, Mother Nation (1993, Seoul)
I would ask you to look at us
We, the adoptees of Korea
Not with pity
We, adopted overseas
I will ask you
Not to forget that
We have the Han flowing throught our veins
We have the same face as yours
We have hearts though sometimes in pain
Despite us, we have your genes
I would insist
Not to forget that
Even if we see the same moon
Despite the difference, we are bound
I would like Not to forget
Even for Songsu bridge and Sampoong in the news
Despite the distance, we are bound
At a time when Korea is globalizing
Or rather, wants to open up to the world
At a time when Korea spends
to glorify its name
At a time when Korea loses itself
in its social problems
We, the adoptees of Korea
We ask you
We adoptees,
Koreans from the outside
To no longer deny.
We, the adoptees of Korea
Not with pity
We, adopted overseas
I will ask you
Not to forget that
We have the Han flowing throught our veins
We have the same face as yours
We have hearts though sometimes in pain
Despite us, we have your genes
I would insist
Not to forget that
Even if we see the same moon
Despite the difference, we are bound
I would like Not to forget
Even for Songsu bridge and Sampoong in the news
Despite the distance, we are bound
At a time when Korea is globalizing
Or rather, wants to open up to the world
At a time when Korea spends
to glorify its name
At a time when Korea loses itself
in its social problems
We, the adoptees of Korea
We ask you
We adoptees,
Koreans from the outside
To no longer deny.
Saturday, June 1, 1991
Instead (1991, Brussels)
Instead of having met her
I imagine what could have happened
I make my own movie and
everything seems possible
In the space of reality
My mother, the one from over there
I'll probably never see her
I'll probably never meet her
She's alive in my spirit
Is it enough for me?
It's enough for me to believe
I'll be in the same room
Maybe without knowing
Maybe without her knowing
I imagine what could have happened
I make my own movie and
everything seems possible
In the space of reality
My mother, the one from over there
I'll probably never see her
I'll probably never meet her
She's alive in my spirit
Is it enough for me?
It's enough for me to believe
I'll be in the same room
Maybe without knowing
Maybe without her knowing
Tuesday, August 1, 1989
As if everything could be made up (1989, Brussels)
I look at her sitting,
I know she came for me, only for me.
As if this moment could make it all up.
She sits crossing her legs, I waited for her for once.
Shy or uncomfortable, she looks down.
She asks if she may explain herself. Why not?
As if these five minutes could make it all up.
She looks up and observes me.
I look down, uncomfortable, even though I am innocent.
I am afraid to betray my emotions.
I want to tell her ... all the accumulated hate.
Maybe she wants to tell me how much she regrets,
how much she didn't want to do it but that she had to.
She talks about anything and nothing.
She surprises me. She's alive, she has lived during all this time.
She stops and murmurs to me that I've changed, she's glad to see me.
As if these words could make it all up...
I smile, I stare at her, to make her look away.
I ask her what she did during all this time.
She hastens to tell me that due to the circumstances, it was the only solution.
She doesn't anwer my question. I listen to her talking. She is lost.
Emotions have overcome her. I look away, towards the window.
As if this could make her feel better...
She tells me that she's married.
She doesn't say if she has children.
I don't try to ask. She asks me what I am doing, if I'm happy.
I answer that it is better without her. She looks at me. I feel pity.
As if that could make it all up.
I know she came for me, only for me.
As if this moment could make it all up.
She sits crossing her legs, I waited for her for once.
Shy or uncomfortable, she looks down.
She asks if she may explain herself. Why not?
As if these five minutes could make it all up.
She looks up and observes me.
I look down, uncomfortable, even though I am innocent.
I am afraid to betray my emotions.
I want to tell her ... all the accumulated hate.
Maybe she wants to tell me how much she regrets,
how much she didn't want to do it but that she had to.
She talks about anything and nothing.
She surprises me. She's alive, she has lived during all this time.
She stops and murmurs to me that I've changed, she's glad to see me.
As if these words could make it all up...
I smile, I stare at her, to make her look away.
I ask her what she did during all this time.
She hastens to tell me that due to the circumstances, it was the only solution.
She doesn't anwer my question. I listen to her talking. She is lost.
Emotions have overcome her. I look away, towards the window.
As if this could make her feel better...
She tells me that she's married.
She doesn't say if she has children.
I don't try to ask. She asks me what I am doing, if I'm happy.
I answer that it is better without her. She looks at me. I feel pity.
As if that could make it all up.
Sunday, August 1, 1982
Question (1982, Brussels)
If things were composedHere and there
From made up memories
It wouldn't matter
to you, maybe
But it does to me
How to really know
Really know
Who can tell me
Or contradict me
That this past, only mine
Is made by my doubts
And misconceptions
I lost my past
I buried it
With the bad idea
Of a Korean runt
To have lived there
For nothing, the time
To forget those moments
But the question remains
Why?
From made up memories
It wouldn't matter
to you, maybe
But it does to me
How to really know
Really know
Who can tell me
Or contradict me
That this past, only mine
Is made by my doubts
And misconceptions
I lost my past
I buried it
With the bad idea
Of a Korean runt
To have lived there
For nothing, the time
To forget those moments
But the question remains
Why?
Thursday, January 1, 1981
Mother Mood (1981, Brussels)
In one week
You will be there
Beside me
Because you love me
I wait, hoping
That with the passage of time
Your delay will be a presence
And then, again absence
A month later
You will be there
The promise of a mother
For my birthday
The month has passed
No one beside me
A telegram accepted
An apology repeated
For my holidays
Spent without you
For your silences
Kept for me
For my anticipation
And your neglect
For your kindness
I promise you
You will be there
Beside me
Because you love me
I wait, hoping
That with the passage of time
Your delay will be a presence
And then, again absence
A month later
You will be there
The promise of a mother
For my birthday
The month has passed
No one beside me
A telegram accepted
An apology repeated
For my holidays
Spent without you
For your silences
Kept for me
For my anticipation
And your neglect
For your kindness
I promise you
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