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

The Snow Path by Chung Ho-seung

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Photography by Hwang Moon-sung

Photography by Hwang Moon-sung

The Snow Path by Chung Ho-seung (1950-)

I see someone’s footsteps
that have walked
on the all white snow path.
They belong to a bird.
Good heavens.

눈길/정호승

희디흰 눈길 위로
누가 걸어간
발자국이 보인다
새의 발자욱이다
다행이다

chunghoseungphoto

Chung Ho-seung was born in 1950, in Hadong, Gyongsangnam-do. Since his debut in 1972 with a poem featured in the Korea Daily News, Chung has published many poetry collections, such asFrom Sorrow to HappinessJesus of Seoul, and Dawn Letter, which has achieved both critical acclaim and mass appeal. His minimal verse style interweaves the everday and the fantastic, proposing the possibility of lyrical revelation in even the most prosaic encounters.

Snow by Yun Dong-ju

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Photography by Jeong Bong-chae

Photography by Jeong Bong-chae

Snow by Yun Dong-ju (1917-1945)

Last night
snow fell abundantly:

on the rooftops,
on the paths, on the farms.
Perhaps it is a blanket
that keeps us from the cold.

That’s why
it falls only in the chill of the winter.

/윤동주

지난 밤에
눈이 소오복이 왔네

지붕이랑
길이랑 밭이랑
추워한다고
덮어 주는 이불인가 봐

그러기에
추운 겨울에만 나리지

yundongjuphotoYun Dong-ju (1917 – 1945) was born in Longjing, Jiandao, in present-day northeastern China. He was known for lyric poetry as well as resistance poetry against Japanese colonialism.

Standing by a Winter Field by Oh Sae-young

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Darcy Brandel

Photography by Hwang Moon-sung

Photography by Hwang Moon-sung

Standing by a Winter Field by Oh Sae-young

A person suffering from love
even once
should visit a winter field.
There is fullness
of an empty space, pleasure
of a person giving freely.
A few fallen grains
on a rice paddy after the harvest.

A person mourning separation
even once
should visit a winter field.
There is comfort
in the heaven that eternalizes
these encounters on earth.
The eyes of a pond
looking up at faraway stars.

A person afflicted with longing
even once
should visit a winter field.
There is awareness
that to watch you is to watch me,
to be alone is to be with others.
The scarecrow
watching the empty field alone.

겨울들녘에서서/오세영

사랑으로 괴로운 사람은
한 번쯤
겨울 들녘에 가 볼 일이다.
빈 공간의 충만,
아낌 없이 주는 자의 기쁨이
거기 있다.
가을 걷이가 끝난 논에
떨어진 낟알 몇 개.

이별을 슬퍼하는 사람은
한번쯤
겨울 들녘에 가볼 일이다.
지상의 만남을
하늘에서 영원케 하는 자의 안식이
거기 있다.
먼 별을 우러르는
둠벙의 눈빛.

그리움으로 아픈 사람은
한번쯤
겨울 들녘에 가볼 일이다.
너를 지킨다는 것은 곧 나를 지킨다는 것,
홀로 있음으로 오히려 더불어 있게된 자의 성찰이
거기 있다.
빈들을 쓸쓸히 지키는 논둑의 저
허수아비.

osyphotoOh Se-young (1942~ )was born in Yeongkwang, Jeollanam-do. He is both a prolific poet and critic. He has published eighteencollections of poetry. His lyrical poetry is known for its simplicity; it is often imbued with Buddhist imagination of the emptiness of self and nonattachment to materialism. After years of shuttling between academia and creative writing, he has recently retired from teaching at Seoul National University. Oh is a recipient of many prestigious awards including the Sowol Poetry Award, the Jung Ji-yong Literary Award, and the Manhae Literary Award.

The Winter Sea by Kim Nam-jo

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Photography by Shawn Malone

Photography by Shawn Malone

The Winter Sea by Kim Nam-jo (1927- )

I went out to see the winter sea.
The unknown bird, the bird I wished to see,
had died and wasn’t there.

The bitter sea wind froze
even the truth into tears
when I thought of you.
The fire of futility
was burning above the water.

It is always
time
that teaches me.
Nodding my head, I stand in the winter sea.

Though my remaining days are few,
let me have a soul
where one prayer opens
the door to more passionate prayers.

I went out to see the winter sea.
The water of endurance was creating
pillars in the depths of the water.

겨울바다/김남조

겨울 바다에 가 보았지
미지(未知)의 새
보고 싶던 새들은 죽고 없었네

그대 생각을 했건만도
매운 해풍에
그 진실마저 눈물져 얼어 버리고
허무의 불 물이랑 위에
불붙어 있었네

나를 가르치는 건
언제나 시간
끄덕이며 끄덕이며 겨울 바다에 섰었네

남은 날은 적지만
기도를 끝낸 다음 더욱 뜨거운
기도의 문이 열리는
그런 영혼을 갖게 하소서

겨울 바다에 가 보았지
인고(忍苦)의 물이
수심(水深) 속에 기둥을 이루고 있었네

출전: “현대문학” (1967)

The Snow Day by Kim Nam-jo

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Painted by Kang Jang-won

Painted by Kang Jang-won

The Snow Day by Kim Nam-jo (1927- )

The Winter tree
and the wind–
the wind’s long tress of hair
hangs all day long on the edge of the branches

like transparent laundry,
making the tree and the wind
become one, no longer isolated from one another.

Not alone.
Nobody is alone.
Neither am I.
In fact, even when I stood alone under the sky,
hasn’t the sky at least stood with me?

Life always stands somewhere
on the stone stairs
of grace.

Love always stands somewhere
on the gravel road
of Providence.

Soothing the complaints with words,
I will live, becoming more generous.
Knowing life is a grateful festival,
I will enjoy this life.

The tears that have ascended, pure icy flowers
around my eyes this new year,
descend again, carrying white snow.

설일(雪日)/김남조

겨울 나무와
바람
머리채 긴 바람들은 투명한 빨래처럼
진종일 가지 끝에 걸려
나무도 바람도
혼자가 아닌 게 된다.

혼자는 아니다
누구도 혼자는 아니다
나도 아니다
실상 하늘 아래 외톨이로 서 보는 날도
하늘만은 함께 있어 주지 않던가

삶은 언제나
은총(恩寵)의 돌층계의
어디쯤이다

사랑도 매양
섭리(攝理)의 자갈밭의
어디쯤이다

이적진 말로써 풀던 마음 말로써 삭이고
얼마 더 너그러워져서 이 생명을 살자
황송한 축연이라 알고
한 세상을 누리자

새해의 눈시울이
순수의 얼음꽃, 승천한 눈물들이 다시 땅 위에 떨구이는
백설을 담고 온다.

An Early Winter Letter by Kim Yong-taek

Translated by Chae-Pyong Song and Anne Rashid

Jiri Mountain; photography by Ha Sung-mok

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.

Before the snow falls,
I would love to see you.

초겨울 편지/ 김용택

앞산에
고운 잎
다 졌답니다
빈 산을 그리며
저 강에
흰눈
내리겠지요

눈 내리기 전에
한번 보고 싶습니다

Kim 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.