Kang Byeong-Cheol – A Literary Voice from South Korea
Writer | Poet | Translator | Doctor of Political Science
Kang Byeong-Cheol is a distinguished South Korean author, poet, and translator, holding a Doctorate in Political Science. Born in Jeju City in 1964, he began his literary career in 1993, publishing his first short story, Song of Shuba, at the age of twenty-nine.
Throughout his career, Kang has published over eight books and has been honored with eight literary awards. In 2005, he released a collection of short stories, further solidifying his place in the literary world. His contributions extend beyond writing, as he served as a member of the Writers in Prison Committee (WiPC) of PEN International (2009–2014) and later as Secretary General of the Jeju Unification Education Center (2018–2022).
Kang has also held prestigious academic and editorial positions, including:
🔹 Specially Appointed Professor at Jeju International University (2016–2018)
🔹 Research Professor at Chungnam National University’s National Defense Institute (2013–2016)
🔹 Senior Researcher at the Society of Ieodo Research (2010–2017)
🔹 CEO of Jejuin News (2010–2013)
🔹 Editorial Writer for JeminIlbo, a prominent newspaper in Jeju City
Currently, he is the founding President of the Korean Association of World Literature, Vice President of The Korean Institute for Peace and Cooperation, and Vice President of Jeju PEN.
Poetry by Kang Byeong-Cheol
THE BLOOM OF COMPASSION
I strive to hold compassion near,
For truth oft whispers, calm and clear:
No soul is free from sorrow’s chain,
Each heart has known its share of pain.
I cast away envy’s shadowed guise,
For all who live bear muffled cries.
When one woe fades, another will rise,
A journey through grief beneath the skies.
In every ache, I pause to see,
The mirrored pain in humanity.
And as I ponder this shared despair,
Understanding blooms, a flower rare.
From the soil of suffering, tender and deep,
A lotus of mercy begins to leap.
Desires unfulfilled birth anguish anew,
Yet wisdom whispers—they’re fleeting too.
I remind myself, through moments grim,
That every yearning is a phantom dim.
And for those who chase illusions in vain,
I offer my pity, for they too know pain.
So I strive to cradle compassion’s flame,
A radiant light no sorrow can claim.
For in this garden of shared plight,
Blooms love, soft as dawn’s first light.
MIGRATORY CRANE BIRDS FLY BEYOND FEAR
Migratory crane birds,
Flying in search of a good world.
They flap their wings high in the blue sky,
Soaring above the clouds floating by.
With a courageous heart and a strong spirit,
They sing brave songs along the way.
Cranes have graced the Korean coast for long,
Yet now their numbers are fading away.
Why do we witness this sorrowful sight?
Why is it so hard to see this beautiful bird?
Korean heroes with unwavering hearts,
Dreamed of a better world and endured the fight.
Like migratory cranes, they conquered fear,
Pursuing brighter days, year after year.
So, let us protect these majestic wings,
For they are hope, and the peace they bring.
FORGOTTEN THINGS
“How did Earth’s civilization begin?” a student asked.
“By making a stone axe?”
“By shaping earthen vessels?”
No.
Earth’s civilization is the creation of humanity.
It began with the care we gave to each other.
Animals do not create civilizations.
They live in a world of predator and prey.
But we,
We are forgetting.
Forgetting how civilizations were built.
Forgetting how to shape the future.
Long ago, when civilizations were first born,
Our ancestors knew that we had to care for each other.
MAN’S SUMMER, GOD’S SUMMER
Summer mornings beckon with beauty and grace,
Inviting us to embrace life’s vibrant embrace.
Everywhere, vitality dances in the air,
Disarming our worries with nature’s flair.
Whose Summer Is It?
The green trees by the roadside caress your hair,
Morning sunlight threads through, gentle and fair.
They dance with delight, leaves shimmer and sway,
Nature’s symphony plays at the break of day.
Whose Summer Is It?
Tall poplar trees stand proud, tranquil and serene,
Youthful buds blossoming, a sight to be seen.
Reaching for the sky with elegance and might,
Their whispers hold secrets, an enchanting light.
Whose Summer Is It?
Amidst fields where missiles rain, smoke fills the air,
Broken concrete piles, no place to hide in Ukraine.
Youthful buds are bleeding, dying in summer’s embrace,
Mothers find a dreadful despair and cry,
Seeking refuge, a place of sanctuary.
Whose Summer Is It?
Oh, the beauty of summer mornings we embrace,
Nature’s masterpiece, a tranquil and vibrant space.
The world alive, pulsing with colors so bright,
A symphony of dreams, filling us with delight.
The summer we seek—
Whose summer will it be?
Under bleeding skies, where pain resides,
Whose summer unfolds, where hope abides?
We cherish each moment, as a new day is born,
Spreading joy as the sun paints the morn.
Summer morning, my love for you grows deep,
A precious gift to cherish, forever to keep.
In search of a summer of peace and harmony,
The wind whispers through the bamboo trees.
Harmonious sways, like a beautiful chord,
Varied in size, yet moving in one accord.
The bamboo forest reveals God’s summer’s grace,
A symphony of harmony, filling every space!
📖 Prepared by Angela Kosta
Executive Director of MIRIADE Magazine
Academic | Journalist | Writer | Poet | Essayist | Literary Critic | Editor | Translator | Promoter
