HAN 恨, THE TRADITIONAL RECIPE FOR HANBOK

by yvonne an

 

 

 

a.  First, start with a handful of Baby’s Breath

     and immerse them in a clay bowl of filtered

     branch water to infuse with four graceful sprinkles of

     dandelions – you want the waters of marigold and

     Seoul sunshine

 

                 be cautious of your nails dipped in garden balsam

                 (though a natural streak of saccharine pink would flower

                 a smile of a peeping child behind the mother customer)

 

                 Balancing the bowl on the center of your head,

                 remembering your ancestors’ stories under a full moon,

                 bring the bowl under approximately six chunks of

                 glittering clouds full of 恨

                 and set aside

 

b.  Next, set the chrysalis folds out on the zelkova table

     and elongate the dreamy threads piercing the dust

     (arms in the motion of weaving each tale you recall)

                one sorrow of a chaste widow who wrapped her neck

                in a night of death,

                one pair of a prince and a kisaeng leaping over

                the trickling moonwater running away from the

                reeds fluting melodies and chimes waking the King

                behind the palace gate

 

c.  Introduce a pinch of each of the flower essences below

     clary sage, jasmine, and ylang-ylang

     test a sniff of juniper berry, and envision the hazy patterns

     which can be tempered with a chop of sesame cake

     missing a corner from the bite of a hungry child who wandered

     in straw sandals weaved in the same orientation of one’s hanbok

 

d.  Submerge the prepared fabric like cascading ripples of western satin

     but with the idle flavor of Han, the remaining fables full of grief or secrecy

     restore the landscapes in each yarn so it does not display a sheer fabrication

     of clothing, but paints the deer, the bow and arrow, the moon,

     and the generations of Han