운명의 지도 Map of Destiny ​By Park Ki-bum скачать в хорошем качестве

운명의 지도 Map of Destiny ​By Park Ki-bum

"The Korean song is followed by an English version." Click to see more Homemade "The Korean song is followed by an English version." "Hello, I am poet park ki-bum. I’ve started creating songs based on the poems I wrote myself. I hope you enjoy listening to them. Any singers who wish to cover my songs are more than welcome to do so. My only wish is for many people to find joy in them. Thank you for your trust." "The Korean song is followed by an English version." Click to see more Homemade 운명의 지도 박기범 아침마다 새 마스크를 찾느라 분주한 사이 정작 아무도 보지 못하게 움켜쥔 곳이 있다 주머니 속에서 식은땀을 흘리며 둥글게 말려 있는 손바닥의 지도 거울 앞의 표정은 매일 갈아 끼워도 이 바닥에 새겨진 선들은 숨길 수가 없어 거짓 미소를 지을 때마다 엇갈리고 계산기를 두드릴 때마다 날카롭게 패인다 미술 시간, 4B 연필이 길을 내던 그 시절엔 손바닥에 묻은 흑연이 곧 나의 운명이었다 마음내키는대로 그려 보던 그때의 손금은 어디로든 흐르는 강물이었는데 이제는 굳은살 아래 갇혀버린 길들 좀비처럼 살아남기 위해 서로의 등 뒤를 더듬는 손가락 사이로 이미 무너져 내린 생의 절벽들이 보인다 밤이 되어 바닥에 떨어진 얼굴들을 줍지도 못한 채 텅 빈 북소리를 내며 손을 펼쳐 본다 상한 생각들이 번식하지 못한 유일한 성지 그곳에 여전히 지워지지 않은 채 남아서 아직 좀비가 되지 못한 어린 날의 내가 그려둔 푸른 수평선 한 줄 ​Map of Destiny ​By Park Ki-bum ​While I bustle about each morning looking for a fresh mask, There is a place I clench tightly, so that truly no one can see. Sweating coldly inside my pocket, A map of the palm lies curled in a circle. Though I swap out the expressions before the mirror every day, The lines engraved on this floor—this palm—cannot be hidden. They crisscross whenever I wear a forced smile, And gouge deeply and sharply whenever I tap at a calculator. ​In art class, back when 4B pencils paved the way, The graphite smeared on my palm was my destiny. The lines of my hand, drawn then as my heart pleased, Were rivers that could flow anywhere. But now, those paths are trapped beneath calluses. To survive like a zombie, Fingers grope along each other’s backs, Revealing the cliffs of a life that has already collapsed. When night falls, unable to even pick up the faces dropped on the floor, I open my hand, which lets out a hollow thrum like an empty drum. ​The only sanctuary where spoiled thoughts failed to breed— Remaining there, still unerased, Is a single line of a blue horizon, Drawn by my childhood self, who has not yet become a zombie.