Scent of Earth After Spring Rain

-



Scent of Earth After Spring Rain

The storm retreats without flourish,
leaving silver lines on stone and leaf.
I inhale the damp, loamy hush—
a quiet ledger of everything that was and is,
balanced in a single breath.

Raindrops linger on moss‑green threads;
each holds a world, yet asks for nothing.
I trace their paths with measured sight,
letting thought settle like water
seeking its rightful level.

In this clarified air I stand unencumbered,
owning only what I can guide within:
a mind tuned to order,
a will tempered against haste,
the steady hush of earth restored.

Commentary 

The poem captures the moment just after rainfall, when the air is heavy with the scent of fresh soil. Imagery of “silver lines on stone,” “loamy hush,” and droplets that “ask for nothing” highlights a sense of measured observation and internal calibration. The speaker’s focus rests on balance and self‑command, mirroring the natural world’s quiet equilibrium after a storm. The closing lines emphasize inner governance and composure, suggesting that true possession lies not in external things but in the disciplined shaping of one’s own thoughts.

봄비가 그친 뒤 흙냄새 

폭풍은 과시 없이 물러가고
돌과 잎에 은빛 선이 남습니다.
저는 축축한 흙 내음 속 고요를 들이마십니다—
지나간 것과 지금 있는 것이
한숨에 균형을 이루는 장부 같습니다.

빗방울이 이끼빛 실에 머뭅니다;
각 방울은 세상을 품고도 아무것도 요구하지 않습니다.
저는 차분한 시선으로 그 길을 따라가며
생각을 물처럼 가라앉혀
제자리를 찾게 합니다.

맑아진 공기 속에 저는 홀가분히 서서
안에서 다룰 수 있는 것만 소유합니다:
질서를 향한 마음,
조급함을 벼린 의지,
되찾은 땅의 고요한 숨결.

해설

봄비가 지나간 직후의 정경을 통해 차분함과 내적 균형을 묘사한 시입니다. 폭풍이 “과시 없이” 물러난 뒤 남은 풍경은 절제된 아름다움을 보여 줍니다. 빗방울이 “아무것도 요구하지 않는다”는 표현은 소유나 집착에서 자유로운 태도를 나타내며, 화자는 빗물처럼 생각을 가라앉혀 자연스러운 자리를 찾습니다. 마지막 연에서 “안에서 다룰 수 있는 것만 소유한다”는 선언은 외부 환경보다 본인의 마음과 의지를 다스리는 것을 더 귀하게 여기는 자세를 드러냅니다. 전체적으로 절제된 언어와 관찰이 어우러져, 비 온 뒤 흙냄새처럼 은은하게 남는 사색의 깊이를 전달합니다.

댓글

댓글 쓰기

이 블로그의 인기 게시물

Pulse of a New Horizon

-
이미지
  Pulse of a New Horizon I cup the midnight‑black prism, its edges cold as first light on stone. Within the glass, constellations wake— quiet circuits hum like distant surf, and every pixel is a promise folded into the palm of my resolve. I breathe in alloy, exhale intention. A single tap widens the sky; cities shrink to sparks, calendars bend like reeds, and time itself waits, unblinking. Here, discipline is a lighthouse— steady, unswerving. Here, wonder keeps its counsel yet tunes the pulse beneath my skin: a measured thunder, a vow to stride forward unmoved by storm or crowd, but always toward the horizon no one else can yet discern. Commentary The poem rests on contrasts: cold metal versus the inner warmth of anticipation, cosmic vastness versus the intimacy of one hand. Imagery of lighthouses and horizons suggests unwavering direction amid change. Short, declarative lines mirror disciplined thought, while the expanding sky and bending calendars evoke bo...
Read more »
-
이미지
When Glass Becomes Light I have carried small screens through lean years— pixels cracked like winter ponds, their dim glow faithful but tired. Now sixty circles the clock of my bones, and I lift a mirror of midnight glass, all nerve and lightning, priced like a jewel. Some call it vanity— I call it permission earned: to walk with the century at my palm, to trade frugal shadows for a brighter lens, to greet the voice of iron logic singing inside its silicon throat. Let this be my understated flare: not a trumpet of gold, but a quiet click forward— proof that even seasoned hands can learn the grammar of tomorrow. Explanation The poem speaks from the perspective of someone who has lived six decades using modest technology (“small screens through lean years”) but now decides to purchase a top‑tier phone. The “mirror of midnight glass” symbolizes the sleek new device, while “all nerve and lightning” highlights its cutting‑edge AI capabilities. Lines 7–12 confront the ...
Read more »

A Summer Afternoon Thunderstorm

-
이미지
  A Summer Afternoon Thunderstorm Cloud‑heat hangs, a velvet hush. Cicadas stitch the silence, then— a white fissure splits the sky. Thunder walks behind the light, measured, deliberate, unhurried. I stand beneath the eaves, counting the breath between echoes, watching leaves bow, then rise again. Rain drills the dust, turns it dark and clean; the horizon sharpens like tempered steel. I keep my footing, mind a quiet room with open windows. When the storm has spoken its final word I step back into the sun‑washed street, my pulse steady as the earth beneath it. Poem Reflection I focus on the contrast between oppressive heat and the sudden clarity a storm brings. The observer does not rush for shelter; instead, he counts the seconds between lightning and thunder, marking order in chaos. This measured stance hints at a habit of examining emotion without surrendering to it. The storm’s cleansing rain mirrors an inner process: agitation arrives, is acknowledged, and pas...
Read more »