In the Finite
—After Adam Zagajewski, “Next Spring”
You say, a poem should end
better than a life. That’s the point.
You put your emphasis on a poem,
on better, on life, on birds cooing, and an adolescent
butterfly. I put the dots and slashes
on end, thinking about the destruction
before the reconstruction and the one comes
after, and I believe that’s what you’re saying, Adam,
that all must end. Like the time you existed
on this earth alone. Like the way you will leave
this poem, and the poem will leave you. Alone,
this poem already started leaving
me, like a broken branch that is held
by other unbroken branches: forever
living and un-leaving the tree. Once,
I also tried to translate the glamour
of hollow faces. The projections
on the inside of our eyelids: magnifying glasses
illuminating the strongest branches. Wandering
eyes to the immortalized words of pain;
of the tragedy forever captured on paper.
To the branches floating on disquieted water
into which you dematerialized & forever
materialized. You ask, isn’t it a dream write
poetry all life & not to wake up the next morning?
I would write forever, if the page lets me,
if the terre lets me, terrorizing; this is an inelegant
way to end a poem. I protest and add:
A life should end
better than a poem. That’s the point.
Dabin Jeong (they/them) is a poet and translator from Seoul, South Korea. They are the author of the chapbook Swallow (Small Harbor Publishing, June 2025). Their works appeared or are forthcoming in A Public Space, The Journal, Pinch, Quarterly West, Modern Poetry in Translation, and the Southern Review. You can find them on Instagram @verymanybins