Hwang Ji-u

Hwang Ji-u is a poet, playwright, sculptor and South Korean translator, born in 1952 in Baedari (Haenam) in South Korea in a modest family.

He studies Esthetics at the University of Seoul, at the Department of Philosophie (License in 1972). The political struggle disturbs one moment its life: because of its engagement for the Democracy of Kwangju, it is stopped, tortured and driven out University of Seoul. It continues its studies at the University of Seogang in Philosophy (Control in 1981). Currently, he is professor with the National university of Arts in Seoul.
Son poem “History of a life” is prize winner of the Newspaper Jungang (1980), other texts “For the days without answers” appear in the review “the literature and the intelligence”. Its first collection “Even the birds leave this world” (1983) obtains the literary prize KIM Known-Yong. It continues to publish: Winter-of-L' tree with Spring-of-L' tree (1985), I am you (1987), the lotus in the eye of the crab (1990, prize winner of the price of the Review modern literature). In 1993, it receives the price of Sowol Poetry and, at the time of the exposure of its sculptures, it publishes the collection the sea is illuminated at the finishing day (1995). Thanks to the publication of One day, I will have sat in a embrumé bar (1998), it obtains the literary prize of Baekseok, and the price of Daesan (1999).

Its work is inspired largely by its own life and that of its contemporaries. It is a poetic report of the daily events, meetings which it makes, with an special attention for humblest. Nature, where vibrate of resonances Bouddhique S, there is also omnipresent. In the multiplicity of its forms, the critic KIM Hyeon “This work said upsets our usual design of poetry and causes a shock. This shock is the project even of the poet” and is related to its vision of the world. It is a poetry which is registered with the hollow of the real and body existence. The work of this poet, if modern and so original, has an universal value by its humanity.

Quotation: Today, me, on the sea of wisdom The bird splits the air, whipping its body, Whipping itself, a whole life, It flies on water, Towards another coast which the sea bathes, Invisible, but presents, towards the distance, The bird from goes away. (Translation by Kim Bona)

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