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KIM, Sowol



The Sea


where are the waters

whose waves pulse, rise, fall, swell—

as the seaweed grows red?


where are the waters

whose fishermen lie in their boats—

singing songs of love and chance?


where are the waters

whose skies die gently at twilight—

cobalt from grey from cool black?


where are the waters

whose wandering birds build flocks—

more massive as they recede into distances?


where are the waters

I would cross over, without a thought—

the last sea without land on the other side?


Azalea Flowers


When you feel disgusted looking at me

And if you feel like leaving me

I will let you go without whining a word


I will go to Yongbyon's Yaksan (Mountain)

I will bring an armful of azaleas

I will lay the azalea flowers on the path you'd take


Softly, lightly,

take one step after another on the fresh flowers

as you're going away


You may go away if you feel disgusted looking at me

I will not let a single tear drop fall

I'd rather die if you leave me, though



Road


Yesterday again

at an inn

I spent a sleepless night with the cawing crows.


Today

how many more miles

on my journey I don't know whither?


Shall I climb the hill

or walk on the field?

Wanted nowhere, I cannot go any farther.


Don't mention my home

at Kwaksan, Chongju,

where trains go and boats too


Look at the geese

in mid air.

Are they flying so well because there's a path?


Look at the geese

in mid air.

I'm standing right at a crossroads.


Of all the roads branching

to all directions,

There's none for me to take readily



Song of the Stream


If you had been born as a wind!

In the middle of an empty field by the stream at moonrise

you would blow loose all the ties of my clothes.

Or if we had been born as wriggling white bugs!

We would try dreaming that foolish dream

of a rainy black night at the foot of some hill.

If only you had been born as a rock on a cliff

where the sea comes to its end,

the two of us would embrace and tumble in.

Let my body be the spirit of fire
burning in your heart the night through,

the two of us burn to ash and vanish



I didn't know till now


That the moon rises nightly, in spring or fall,

I didn't know till now.


How much I'd suffer from longing

I didn't know till now.


That the moon is there, no matter how bright,

I didn't know till now.


That the moon is for all the sorrow

I didn't know till now.


Vroeger wist ik het niet


Vroeger wist ik het niet


Hoe de maan stil opkomt,

zomer en winter, onveranderlijk –

vroeger wist ik het niet.


Hoe met de wassende maan

een diep verlangen rijst –

vroeger wist ik het niet.


Dat de maan bij het heengaan

mij treurig stemde –

vroeger wist ik het niet.


Vertaling: Bertus DIJK