An Early Winter Letter by Kim Yong-taek
Lovely leaves
have all been shed
from the mountain ahead of me.
Longing for the empty mountain,
white snow
might fall
upon the river.
have all been shed
from the mountain ahead of me.
Longing for the empty mountain,
white snow
might fall
upon the river.
Before the snow falls,
I would love to see you.
I would love to see you.
Love: Making a Long Distance Phone Call by Moon In-soo
So it’s raining over there?
It’s bright and sunny here.
Your sadness dries up little by little.
I am slowly getting drenched.
It’s bright and sunny here.
Your sadness dries up little by little.
I am slowly getting drenched.
Chunhyang’s Words: Part Three,Chunhyang’s Last Words by Seo Jung-ju
Farewell,
Young Master.
Young Master.
Like the thick, green tree
under whose shade we stood together
when we first met on Dano of May,*
I wish you well forever, forever.
under whose shade we stood together
when we first met on Dano of May,*
I wish you well forever, forever.
Though I don’t know for sure
where the other world is,
however far away it is,
my love will be able to travel.
where the other world is,
however far away it is,
my love will be able to travel.
Even though I may flow as dark water thousands of feet below the earth,
or fly as high as a cloud upon the Tusita sky,
wouldn’t it still be beside you, Young Master?
or fly as high as a cloud upon the Tusita sky,
wouldn’t it still be beside you, Young Master?
Moreover, when the cloud fills with a torrential rain,
I, Chunhyang, will certainly be there.
I, Chunhyang, will certainly be there.
*The fifth of May celebrates Spring in the lunar calendar.
Chunhyang’s Words: Part Two,
Chunhyang’s Words: Part Two,
On the Day that Shines Again by Seo Jung-ju
Spirit,
at first, my heart was like a wavering haze
on a day when thousands of skylarks sing;
It was like small clouds flying together
in the verdant river
where the fish with glittering scales swim.
at first, my heart was like a wavering haze
on a day when thousands of skylarks sing;
It was like small clouds flying together
in the verdant river
where the fish with glittering scales swim.
Spirit,
but when you came one day in his shape,
I became a mad whirlwind.
I became a torrential rain,
a cascading waterfall from a cliff.
but when you came one day in his shape,
I became a mad whirlwind.
I became a torrential rain,
a cascading waterfall from a cliff.
But Spirit,
like the ocean swallows a small creek,
you took him away again,
and left only an evening glow
burning in my empty heart.
like the ocean swallows a small creek,
you took him away again,
and left only an evening glow
burning in my empty heart.
Spirit,
another day shines upon me.
Now, the color of my heart,
blooming like bellflowers on the mountain,
is your love.
another day shines upon me.
Now, the color of my heart,
blooming like bellflowers on the mountain,
is your love.
Chunhyang’s Words: Part One,Conversing while Swinging by Seo Jung-ju
Hyangdan, push the swing
toward the faraway sea
like you are pushing out a boat,
Hyangdan
toward the faraway sea
like you are pushing out a boat,
Hyangdan
Away from this gently swaying weeping willow
and a patch of wildflowers
that seem to be embroidered on my pillow cover,
away from these small butterflies and nightingales,
like you are pushing away forever,
Hyangdan
and a patch of wildflowers
that seem to be embroidered on my pillow cover,
away from these small butterflies and nightingales,
like you are pushing away forever,
Hyangdan
Push me up
toward that sky where there is no coral or isle.
Push me up like the colorful clouds.
Push up my heaving heart!
No matter what I do, I cannot travel
to the west like the moon.
toward that sky where there is no coral or isle.
Push me up like the colorful clouds.
Push up my heaving heart!
No matter what I do, I cannot travel
to the west like the moon.
Like the wind pushes up the waves,
push me up,
Hyangdan.
push me up,
Hyangdan.
Submission by Manhae Han Yong-Un (Translated by Francisca Cho)
Others love their freedom, but I prefer submission.
It’s not that I don’t know freedom.
I just want to submit to you.
Willing submission is sweeter than exalted freedom.
If you tell me to submit to someone else,
that’s the only thing to which I can’t submit.
If I submit to someone else, I can’t submit to you.
Azaleas by Kim So-wŏl
When seeing me sickens you
and you walk out
I'll send you off without a word, no fuss.
Yongbyon's mount Yaksan's
azaleas
by the armful I'll scatter in your path.
With parting steps
on those strewn flowers
treading lightly, go on, leave.
When seeing me sickens you
and you walk out
why, I'd rather die than weep one tear.
Beside a chrysanthemum by Midang Sŏ Chŏng-ju
For one chrysanthemum to bloom
a nightingale
has sobbed since spring, perhaps.
For one chrysanthemum to bloom
thunder
has pealed in dark clouds, perhaps.
Flower! Like my sister standing
at her mirror, just back
from far away, far away byways of youth,
where she was racked with longing and lack:
last night's frost came down
to bid your yellow petals bloom, perhaps,
while I could not get to sleep.
Grass by Kim Su-yŏng
The grass is lying flat.
Fluttering in the east wind that brings rain in its train,
the grass lay flat
and at last it wept.
As the day grew cloudier, it wept even more
and lay flat again.
The grass is lying flat.
It lies flat more quickly than the wind.
It weeps more quickly than the wind.
It rises more quickly than the wind.
The day is cloudy, the grass is lying flat.
It lies low as the ankles
low as the feet.
Though it lies flat later than the wind,
it rises more quickly than the wind
and though it weeps later than the wind,
it laughs more quickly than the wind.
The day is cloudy, the grass's roots are lying flat.
Flower by Kim Ch’un-su
Before I spoke his name
he was simply
one set of gestures, nothing more.
Then I spoke his name,
he came to me
and became a flower.
Just as I spoke his name,
I hope that someone will speak my name,
one right for my color and perfume.
I long to go to him
and become his flower.
We all of us
long to become something.
You for me, and I for you,
we long to become a never-to-be-forgotten gaze.
Back to Heaven by Chŏn Sang-pyŏng
I'll go back to heaven again.
Hand in hand with the dew
that melts at a touch of the dawning day,
I'll go back to heaven again.
With the dusk, together, just we two,
at a sign from a cloud after playing on the slopes
I'll go back to heaven again.
At the end of my outing to this beautiful world
I'll go back and say: It was beautiful. . . .
Mokkye Market by Shin Kyŏng-Nim
The sky urges me to turn into a cloud,
the earth urges me to turn into a breeze,
a little breeze waking weeds on the ferry landing
once storm clouds have scattered and rain has cleared.
To turn into a peddler sad even in autumn light,
going to Mokkye Ferry, three days' boat ride from Seoul,
to sell patent face-powders, on days four and nine.
The hills urge me to turn into a meadow flower,
the stream urges me to turn into a stone.
To hide my face in the grass when hoarfrost bites,
to wedge behind rocks when rapids rage cruel.
To turn into a traveller with pack laid by, resting
on a clay hovel's wood step, river shrimps boiling up,
changed into a fool for a week or so, once in thrice three years.
The sky urges me to turn into a breeze,
the hills urge me to turn into a stone.
Today by Ku Sang
Today again I confront a day that is source of mystery.
In this day the past, present and future are one,
just as each drop of water in that river
is linked to a tiny spring in some mountain valley
and linked to the distant, azure sea.
In that way, in this today of mine, being linked to eternity,
at this very moment I am living that eternity.
That means that it is not after I have died
but from today on that I must live eternity,
must live a life worthy of eternity.
I must live in poverty of heart.
I must live with an empty heart.
At Thirty, the Party Is Over
Fact is,
the revolutionaries were cooler than the revolution,
the booze was better than the bar,
and that 'O My Comrade' anthem
sucked —
(though I did hum along to those corny love songs).
But what the hell —
the revolutionaries were cooler than the revolution,
the booze was better than the bar,
and that 'O My Comrade' anthem
sucked —
(though I did hum along to those corny love songs).
But what the hell —
the party is over,
the booze has run dry, wallets are emptied and, finally,
even he's left —
but, although the bill's been split, and they've all got their
coats
and even though the place is deserted —
I know there's someone still lurking
wiping tables clean for the boss
remembering all the highs and shedding hot tears
someone who knows every word of the unfinished songs
someone — not him — who'll maybe
set up the tables by morning
who'll invite them all back
who'll rig up the lighting and repaint the stage —
the booze has run dry, wallets are emptied and, finally,
even he's left —
but, although the bill's been split, and they've all got their
coats
and even though the place is deserted —
I know there's someone still lurking
wiping tables clean for the boss
remembering all the highs and shedding hot tears
someone who knows every word of the unfinished songs
someone — not him — who'll maybe
set up the tables by morning
who'll invite them all back
who'll rig up the lighting and repaint the stage —
sure. But what the hell.
Survivors
As if tracing a perfect, pre-destined route,
the bird soars
the bird soars
through the air,
turning that clichéd blue sky blindingly blue —
turning that clichéd blue sky blindingly blue —
an afternoon sky
under which I am going postmodernly mad
under which I am going postmodernly mad
A gaggle of customers stuck outside the restaurant
throngs round the entrance
not able to queue
throngs round the entrance
not able to queue
source: https://jaypsong.wordpress.com/tag/love-poem/
http://hompi.sogang.ac.kr/anthony/Favorites.htm
http://www.poetrytranslation.org/poems/filter/country/South%20Korea
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