Cold weather & Seoul Shijo.

With the weather at times turning cold (-1C a few nights ago!) I've decided to post an old poem of mine. A haiku, in the English, with Korean translation by me.

Early autumn green
wind whispering other colors in cold
trees lean nearer to listen.

이린 카을 녹
바람 다른 색으로 차갑에 속삭인다
나무들이 기대어 그 소리를 듣는다.
-- Matthew Thivierge.

I'll get my wife to check my spelling later. My spelling is usually terrible.
I do love the word 속삭인다: to whisper. Its a word you _can_ whisper more smoothly than 'whisper'.

Heres a Shijo from a poet who wrote mostly in the 60s. Sadly the book I'm taking him from doesn't have the original Korean. Still, its a great read. As the poems in the book have translated so well, I'm dying to get my hands on the original Korean for them! Suffice: here's one by Seo-Pol. I'm sure many visiting Seoul or foreigners living there can relate to this one:

Seoul
Today I've come up to Seoul
and purchased a thousand acres of loneliness.
I wish to scatter it like mist;
sprinkle it like drizzling rain.
Penniless are my pockets, but I have a friend's
name card in its place.
-- So Pol (b. 1939).

Shijo

Similar to a Japanese Haiku is the Korean Shijo poetry. Here's a sample Shijo below. More details on Shijo form later.

십 년을 경영하여 초려삼간 지어내니
나 한 간 달 한 간에 청풍 한 간 맡겨두고
강산은 들일 데 없으니 둘러두고 보리라.
-- 미상

I worked for ten years, and built at last a thatched cottage.
A room for myself, a room for the moon, and a room for the wind,
And no room for the hills and brooks; I'll view them standing around me.
-- Anonymous.
Translated by Kim Young Nahg.

The Deepest Sea

The Deepest Sea

Nightly

we drift

like sand upon sea

then, into the deep

we dive,

swim

with the elements of our day

and dream.

This East Sea

is the Pacific

later the Atlantic

reaches all continents.

This East Sea

is rain

falling on mountains

drunken by millions of mothers

swishing around babies

that are being formed.

Our dreams, you see

are

in that sea

always being formed.

The sea connects us all

forms us

carries us

as when we die

Buried,

we become all undone as dust

washed by rain

slowly

we drift

to become like sand upon sea

into the deep

we further die

to swim with the elements of our days

and dream

in the deepest sea.

--M.T.

-- presented Aug 4 2009 2:10pm Busan Sea/Marine Literature Festival

Written a week before in a taxi coming to LG Metrocity from Busan Immigration.