Cold Evening
The moon shining blue hangs above
the village shrine wall’s crumbled corner
staying still as if it lost its heart, and on a rock a pair
of crows spread their wings against the wind.
Graves clinging onto one another push in.
Snow melts, revealing red earth where a hill begins.
Here, far from the streetlights, I have made
a home. O my heart, once more
the world is further away than the grave,
tears giving no more warmth than water.
O my heart, my only world where
a bonfire blossoms, even fall has left my yard.
But I am, despite everything, I am
listening to melting snow flowing under snow
covering this earth I lie on each night,
for I am the one who sees the moon over the wall.
찬 저녁
퍼르스렷한 달은, 성황당의
데군데군 헐어진 담 모도리에
우둑히 걸리웠고, 바위 위의
까마귀 한 쌍, 바람에 나래를 펴라.
엉긔한 무덤들은 들먹거리며,
눈 녹아 황토 드러난 멧기슭의,
여기라, 거리 불빛도 떨어져 나와,
집 짓고 들었노라, 오오 가슴이여
세상은 무덤보다도 다시 멀고
눈물은 물보다 더 덥음이 없어라.
오오 가슴이여, 모닥불 피어오르는
내 한세상, 마당가의 가을도 갔어라.
그러나 나는, 오히려 나는
소리를 들어라, 눈석임 물어 씨거리는,
땅 위에 누워서, 밤마다 누워,
담 모도리에 걸린 달을 내가 또 봄으로.
Jack Jung is a graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. His translations of Korean poet Yi Sang’s poetry and prose are published in Yi Sang: Selected Works by Wave Books. He is a Visiting Assistant Professor of English at Davidson College.