The Salted Mackerel by Park Hoo-ki

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Photography by Lee Won-kyu

Photography by Lee Won-kyu

The Salted Mackerel* by Park Hoo-ki (1968- )

The night a poor father sleeps, embracing a pitiful son,
the night a child sleeps, dreaming of a dry blanket and a hot dish,
the night the big sorrow sleeps, embracing the small sorrow,
the night at the subway station the sleet rubs salt in the wound,
turning over the leaves of newspapers.

*The salted mackerel is one of the most common fish for the working class people in Korea.

자반고등어/박후기

가난한 아버지가 가련한 아들을 껴안고 잠든 밤
마른 이불과 따끈따끈한 요리를 꿈꾸며 잠든 밤
큰 슬픔이 작은 슬픔을 껴안고 잠든 밤
소금 같은 싸락눈이 신문지 갈피를 넘기며 염장을 지르는, 지하역의 겨울 밤

출전: 시집, “내 귀는 거짓말을 사랑한다”

After the Snowfall by Lee Hang-bok

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Photography by Kang Jang-won

Painted by Kang Jang-won

After the Snowfall by Lee Hang-bok (1556-1618)

After the snowfall, the twig gate is closed till late.
At midday, there is no human path on the bridge over the brook.
Hot air rises up in thick clouds from a brazier.
Alone, I roast and eat big, mountain chestnuts.

눈 내린 뒤/이항복

눈 내린 뒤 사립은 늦도록 닫혀 있고
개울물 다리는 한낮에도 인적이 없네
화로에서 모락모락 피어나는 뜨거운 기운들
알 굵은 산밤을 혼자서 구워 먹네

The Winter Tree’s Shadow by Choi Don-sun

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

ChoiDonSunTreeParkChangSoo

Photography by Park Chang-soo

The Winter Tree’s Shadow by Choi Don-sun (1947- )

There,
someone still appears to stay.
The site where the wind has driven away the sun,
the site where only the blackishly tanned scars of the sun remain,
the long-necked people, tired of waiting,
appear to sit around and quietly murmur,
for they still have something to talk about.
The longing of the leaves, which have been long forgotten,
appear to rustle there,
lying on the earth
like burnt capillaries.

겨울나무 그림자/최돈선

거기,
누가 아직도 남아있을 것만 같다
바람이 햇빛을 몰고 간 자리
햇빛의 상처만 거뭇거뭇 그을어 남은 자리
아직도 이야기할 무엇이 있기에
기다림에 지친, 목이 긴 사람들의 얼굴이 돌아앉아
조용조용 웅얼거리고 있을 것만 같다
타버린 실핏줄처럼
땅 위에 누운 채
왠지 거기 오래도록 잊혀진
나뭇잎의 그리움들이 흔들리고 있을 것만 같다

Cottony Snowflakes by Choi Don-sun

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Photography by Kim Jaegon

Photography by Kim Jaegon

Cottony Snowflakes by Choi Don-sun

It would be wonderful
to have cottony snowflakes all the time.
Puppy-like,
I would like to be a child again.
It would be wonderful
to leave without any purpose,
passing through the long winter trees.
It would be wonderful
to become white footsteps,
alone, like that.

It would be wonderful
to have a loved one—the one everybody loves–
standing at the far end of the winter,
to greet me.
It would be wonderful
to laugh hearty laughs,
patting one another’s lean backs.
It would be wonderful
to laugh hearty laughs
like these cottony snowflakes.

Wonderful–
it would be wonderful.
I once felt so painful,
I once felt so sorrowful,
I once felt so poor.

It would be wonderful
to have the cottony snowflakes, pouring down endlessly,
erasing all of this into white.
So
foolish,

but how wonderful it would be to become a white snowman.

함박눈—최돈선

아무 때나
함박눈이 왔음 좋겠다.
그래서 강아지처럼
철부지가 되었음 좋겠다.
아무 뜻 없이
긴 겨울나무 사이로 떠났으면 좋겠다.
그렇게 홀로
하얀 발자국이었으면 좋겠다.

사랑하는 사람
모두 사랑하는 사람
저 먼 겨울 끝에 서서
나를 반겨주었으면 좋겠다.
서로 서로 야윈 등 두드리며
함빡 웃어봤음 좋겠다.
펑펑 함박눈처럼 웃어봤음 좋겠다.

그래
그랬으면 좋겠다.
너무 아파
너무 슬퍼
너무 가난해

이 모든 것
함박눈 펑펑 내려
하얗게 하얗게 지워졌음 좋겠다.
천치같이
그런,

하얀 눈사람이었으면 좋겠다.

Snow by Kim Jong-hae

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Photography by Kim Young-ran

Photography by Kim Young-ran

Snow by Kim Jong-hae (1941-)

Snowflakes are light,
for they carry each other on their backs.
The falling snow is comforting.
Watching the snowflakes rub their cheeks
upon one another’s backs is pleasing.
As the snow falls, I wish I could carry someone with me.

눈/김종해 (1941-)

눈은 가볍다
서로가 서로를 업고 있기 때문에
내리는 눈은 포근하다
서로의 잔등에 볼을 부비는
눈내리는 날은 즐겁다
눈 내리는 동안
나도 누군가를 업고 싶다

The New Year’s Prayer by Kim Hyun-seung

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Photography by Park Hye-sook

Photography by Park Hye-sook

The New Year’s Prayer by Kim Hyun-seung (1913-1975)

While living in these bodies,
no one can live against time.
Even in the flow of this new day,
let us cherish
the love and hope
you have given us, Your Grace.

Though our bodies age, our hearts are fresh;
Though time flows, we are renewed with purpose.
Let us flow stream by stream, this year too,
till we arrive in your wide bosom, the sea of life,
to be embraced.

Let the sound of the big drum
resound in the mountains and streams,
resplendent in the melody of this flow.

신년기원/김현승

몸 되어 사는 동안
시간을 거스를 아무도 우리에겐 없사오니
새로운 날의 흐름 속에도
우리에게 주신 사랑과 희망-당신의 은총을
깊이깊이 간직하게 하소서

육체는 낡아지나 마음으로 새로웁고
시간은 흘러가도 목적으로 새로워지나이다
목숨의 바다-당신의 넓은 품에 닿아 안기우기까지
오는 해도 줄기줄기 흐르게 하소서

이 흐름의 노래 속에
빛나는 제목의 큰 북소리 산천에 울려퍼지게 하소서!

Kim Hyun-seung (1913-1975) was born and raised in Gwangju. He is known for sublimating his Christian imagination into poetry as in “The Prayer of Autumn.” He is also known for founding a literary journal, New Literature, in 1951. In the 1950s, he taught creative writing at Chosun University and mentored many great poets known around the country.

The White Martial Law by Choi Seung-ho

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

whitemartiallaw

The White Martial Law by Choi Seung-ho (1954-)

The white mountains roll like a tsunami,
and the heavy snow rages,
filling the deep white ravine,
where no snow plow can come.
A small coal-like thing flutters its wings:
a wren flies into the snowstorm.
Hikers might have lost their way here.
The snow that appears to block
the road to a remote village;
the snow that attacks, flying at you
as though the Milky Way poured down from the sky;
the strong snowstorm army that rushes in to fight,
the white martial law in which the snowstorm falls.

A small coal-like thing flutters its wings:
a scrawny wren flies toward me.
I hurriedly hide myself in the outhouse.
Is a big-eyed hawk lurking nearby?

Mountain animals may have lost their way and starve here.
The strong snowstorm army that rushes in to fight
crushes pine branches with the weight of its piles–
the white martial law of the snowstorm
falls upon the chimney of a remote house
where a meal is being cooked over snowbell firewood
sitting upon the white mountains and ravines that roll like a tsunami.

대설주의보/최승호

해일처럼 굽이치는 백색의 산들,
제설차 한 대 올 리 없는
깊은 백색의 골짜기를 메우며
굵은 눈발은 휘몰아치고,
쬐그마한 숯덩이만한 게 짧은 날개를 파닥이며…
굴뚝새가 눈보라 속으로 날아간다.
길 잃은 등산객들 있을 듯
외딴 두메마을 길 끊어놓을 듯
은하수가 펑펑 쏟아져 날아오듯 덤벼드는 눈,
다투어 몰려오는 힘찬 눈보라의 군단,
눈보라가 내리는 백색의 계엄령.

쬐그마한 숯덩이만한 게 짧은 날개를 파닥이며…
날아온다 꺼칠한 굴뚝새가
서둘러 뒷간에 몸을 감춘다.
그 어디에 부리부리한 솔개라도 도사리고 있다는 것일까.

길 잃고 굶주리는 산짐승들 있을 듯
눈더미의 무게로 소나무 가지들이 부러질 듯
다투어 몰려오는 힘찬 눈보라의 군단,
때죽나무와 때 끓이는 외딴 집 굴뚝에
해일처럼 굽이치는 백색의 산과 골짜기에
눈보라가 내리는
백색의 계엄령.

출전: “대설주의보” (민음사, 1983)

Snow by Kim Soo-young

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Photography by Kim Jaegon

Photography by Kim Jaegon

Snow by Kim Soo-young (1921-1968)

Snow is alive.
The fallen snow is alive.
The fallen snow on the yard is alive.

Let us cough hard.
Young poet, let us cough.
Let us cough with our faces turned toward the snow.
Let us cough hard
so the snow will notice us.

Snow is alive.
For the body and soul that have forgotten death,
snow is alive beyond the dawn.

Let us cough.
Young poet, let us cough.
Facing the snow,
let us cough hard,
spitting out the phlegm
which collected in our hearts
during the night.

/김수영

눈은 살아 있다
떨어진 눈은 살아 있다
마당 위에 떨어진 눈은 살아 있다

기침을 하자
젊은 시인이여 기침을 하자
눈 위에 대고 기침을 하자
눈더러 보라고 마음놓고 마음놓고
기침을 하자

눈은 살아 있다
죽음을 잊어버린 영혼과 육체를 위하여
눈은 새벽이 지나도록 살아 있다

기침을 하자
젊은 시인이여 기침을 하자
눈을 바라보며
밤새도록 고인 가슴의 가래라도
마음껏 뱉자

출전: “문학예술” (1957)

The Snowy Village by Kim Yong-taek

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Photography by Korea Tourism Corporation

Photography by Korea Tourism Corporation

The Snowy Village by Kim Yong-taek (1948-)

Have you entered a snowy village in the evening?
Have you seen a snowy village
where snow falls from the sky
and the village quietly receives it?
As you enter the village, all the roads of the world end,
even those to the rice paddies and farm fields.
It is useless to turn around to see the road I have traveled.
It lies in white.
Everything is of no use any longer.
The life of no return quietly lies ahead of me, without any roads.
Oh the snow falls, filling the evening sky!
If you look closely and push away the snow,
there is nothing you will not see in this world.
Only the snow that has come to this world after living in the sky carefully descends,
dropping its feet on the dark roofs of this world, with its two eyes closed.

눈 오는 마을/김용택

저녁 눈 오는 마을에 들어서 보았느냐
하늘에서 눈이 내리고
마을이 조용히 그 눈을 다 맞는
눈 오는 마을을 보았느냐
논과 밭과 이 세상에 난 길이란 길들이
마을에 들어서며 조용히 끝나고
내가 걸어온 길도
뒤돌아 볼 것 없다 하얗게 눕는다
이제 아무 것도 더는 소용없다 돌아설 수 없는 삶이
길 없이 내 앞에 가만히 놓인다
저녁 하늘에 가득 오는 눈이여
가만히 눈발을 헤치고 들여다보면
이 세상엔 보이지 않은 것 하나 없다
다만
하늘에서 살다가 이 세상에 온 눈들이 두 눈을 감으며
조심조심 하얀 발을 이 세상 어두운 지붕 위에
내릴 뿐이다

kimyongtaekphotoKim Yong-taek (1948- ) was born in Imsil, Jeollabuk-do. With lyrical (often regional) vernacular, he has written many poems about undamaged agricultural communities and the profound beauty of nature. His poetry collections include The Sumjin River, A Clear Day, Sister, The Day Is Getting Dark, The Flower Letter I Miss, Times Like A River, That Woman’s House, and Your Daring Love. He also published essay collections such as A Small Village,What’s Longed for Exists behind the Mountain, A Story of the Sumjin River, and Follow the Sumjin River and Watch. He was awarded the Kim Soo-young Literary Award (1986) and the Sowol Poetry Award (1997). He currently teaches at Woonam Elementary School.

A Snowy Morning by Shin Kyung-rim

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Photography by Hye Hyon

Photography by Hye Hyon

A Snowy Morning by Shin Kyung-rim (1935-)

“Good morning.
Today of all days, the flurries are cold.”
“How are you going to stand this winter?”
“Will you bloom again next year?”

The old trees say this to the old trees,
the forsaken people say this to the forsaken people,
coughing and shaking off the snow.

눈 온 아침/신경림

잘 잤느냐고
오늘따라 눈발이 차다고
이 겨울을 어찌 나려느냐고
내년에도 또
꽃을 피울 거냐고

늙은 나무들은 늙은 나무들끼리
버려진 사람들은 버려진 사람들끼리
기침을 하면서 눈을 털면서