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Page 28

fall 2020

Prelude Yun Dong-ju tr. Jack Jung

On the day of my death perhaps the sky sees me a wish to have endured spotless of my shames granted, upon a leaf heaves the wind and it is bitter enough. Stars will be sung in my heart that keeps all the dying as objects of its love and then on the road that I have been given my footsteps will fall. On this night again stars are what winds brush past. 1941

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Profile for The Columbia Review

The Columbia Review Fall 2020  

The Columbia Review Fall 2020  

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