It is such a beautiful day, a golden autumn afternoon in Seoul’s historic Insadong, poetry and calligraphy met in quiet harmony at the Korea Art Museum, where poet Kim Min-jeong unveiled her new collection, I Heard. The event was not only a book launch but also an intimate celebration of literature, art, and human connection gathering together over a hundred poets, novelists, translators, and cultural figures from across Korea and beyond. It felt less like an occasion and more like a pilgrimage, where each guest came to honor the living spirit of words.
From the moment one stepped into the third-floor gallery, the air carried both solemnity and warmth. Over 150 handwritten poems and manuscripts filled the space works contributed by prominent Korean writers who had copied Kim Min-jeong’s poems by hand. The exhibition shimmered with quiet energy: each brushstroke and ink mark revealed the inner rhythm of its author. In a digital age where speed defines creation, this return to handwriting was an act of reverence—a testament to the patience and intimacy of literary art.
One of the centerpieces of the exhibition was novelist Kim Ho-un’s handwritten rendition of Kim Min-jeong’s sijo poem “The Poet.” The opening line“Take off your tinted glasses and look at the world” seemed to hover in the air like a gentle command. It reminded the audience that the truest literature asks us not to judge, but to see.
Every detail of the event reflected the poet’s grace and generosity. The lighting was soft, the flower arrangements tenderly chosen, and the music subdued yet thoughtful. Guests were greeted with elegant envelopes containing a copy of I Heard, two pieces of traditional rice cake, and a bottle of water—simple, humble gifts, yet imbued with meaning. Even before the speeches began, the gallery was alive with hushed conversations, the fragrance of flowers mingling with the rustle of paper.
As the ceremony commenced, the atmosphere deepened into reflection. Speeches were offered, poems recited, and the shared silence between words carried as much emotion as the words themselves. It was literature as communion where listeners became part of the poem’s unfolding.
Among the attendees was a Vietnamese delegation, representing the growing friendship between Korean and Vietnamese literature. The group was led by writer and international journalist Jang Geon-seob, and included writer–translator Kiều Bích Hậu, Dr. Lê Đăng Hoan who delivered an eloquent speech on the unifying power of language, Dr. Đặng Lam Giang, poet Nguyễn Đình Tâm, and Australian–Vietnamese reporter Võ Thị Như Mai, representing Multicultural Press Australia. Their presence highlighted a shared literary dialogue that transcends geography, affirming that poetry like music or lightneeds no translation to be felt.
For the Vietnamese team, the setting of Insadong carried its own quiet poetry. This neighborhood, nestled between Gyeongbokgung Palace and Bukchon Hanok Village, is known as the heart of Seoul’s artistic heritage, a labyrinth of galleries, teahouses, and crafts. To witness a modern Korean poet launch her book amid this cradle of tradition was to see past and present embrace each other.
After the readings and speeches, the atmosphere turned celebratory. Guests lined up to take photos with the poet, laughter filled the room, and a cake was shared. Yet amid the festivity, a calm lingered, a sense that something gentle and profound had been exchanged.
The I Heard project itself is remarkable: more than 150 writers hand-copied Kim Min-jeong’s poems, transforming reading into an act of participation. As novelist Kim Ho-un remarked during the event, “Literature is the art of rewriting and refeeling.” Through their own hands, these writers breathed new life into existing poems, proving that words live only when shared, and that handwriting—the ancient art of touch—remains the heartbeat of language.
Kim Min-jeong, who debuted in 1985 after winning the Sijo Literature Contest, has spent decades nurturing Korean letters as both poet and scholar. With a Ph.D. in Korean Language and Literature from Sungkyunkwan University, she taught for 34 years before assuming leadership roles in several major organizations. Today, as Vice President of the Korean Writers’ Association, Editor-in-Chief of Monthly Literature, and Director of PEN International Korea, she continues to shape the literary landscape with the same sincerity and refinement that infuse her poetry.
Her verses, contemplative, lyrical, and deeply human speak not of grandeur but of attentiveness. In I Heard, she listens: to silence, to the smallness of daily life, to the pulse of things unnoticed. It is this quiet listening that makes her voice timeless.
When the event concluded and guests stepped back into the soft light of Insadong, many lingered. The golden leaves rustled like turning pages. People held their copies of I Heard close, as if the poems themselves had become part of them. There was no grand applause, only the steady hum of human gratitude, the kind that rises when art touches truth.
The launch of I Heard was not merely the introduction of a book; it was a reaffirmation of literature’s living heart. Through handwriting and voice, through conversation and silence, poetry found its renewal. It was a reminder that even in a world of screens and haste, ink still carries the warmth of the rhythm and that the truest poems are those written not only on paper, but within us.
