A Ripe Persimmon Poem by Chulsoo Kim

What have you done until you come to me? Ripe persimmon!
To become pink-colour flesh inside thinned skin,
to leave taut fattening to my lip
you make spring and summer be stretched
with lifting heat- piling-up-plate to heaven
with connecting bronze colour vein to earth
you, an arrow target, look after parting of wind
you already rise to dress up to the autumn
Didn't you raise your sweet voice because of severance from the world
on the day of separating stalk?
Don't you hurt when firm flesh become soft to be runny?
Don't you fidget to find out to whom you get married?
Do you feel relieved at the time of catching sight of me?
When cherished flesh is bared with the skin undressed,
when you feel your flesh exposed to air for the first time
do you cover up with shyness
the chest shivering because you can't find where to go?
Do you perspire the groan of pleasure
when lips are matched
when sitting on the tongue?
Are you fearing to break up
when I taste even though the flesh is dispersing?
I am happy with you gotten.