님의 침묵(沈默)
님은 갔습니다. 아아 사랑하는 나의 님은 갔습니다.
푸른 산빛을 깨치고 단풍나무 숲을 향하여 난 작은 길을 걸어서
차마 떨치고 갔습니다.
황금의 꽃같이 굳고 빛나던 옛 맹서는
차디찬 티끌이 되어서 한숨의 미풍에 날아갔습니다.
날카로운 첫 키스의 추억은 나의 운명의 지침(指針)을 돌려 놓고
뒷걸음쳐서 사라졌습니다.
나는 향기로운 님의 말소리에 귀먹고
꽃다운 님의 얼굴에 눈멀었습니다.
사랑도 사람의 일이라 만날 때에 미리
떠날 것을 염려하고 경계하지 아니한 것은 아니지만,
이별은 뜻밖의 일이 되고 놀란 가슴은 새로운 슬픔에 터집니다.
그러나 이별은 쓸데없는 눈물의 원천을 만들고 마는 것은
스스로 사랑을 깨치는 것인 줄 아는 까닭에,
걷잡을 수 없는 슬픔의 힘을 옮겨서
새 희망의 정수박이에 들어부었습니다.
우리는 만날 때에 떠날 것을 염려하는 것과 같이
떠날 때에 다시 만날 것을 믿습니다.
아아 님은 갔지마는 나는 님을 보내지 아니하였습니다.
제 곡조를 못 이기는 사랑의 노래는 님의 침묵을 휩싸고 돕니다.
– 1926, 한용운 (韓龍雲)
This is one of the most famous poems in modern Korean. I ran across a reference to it in my ongoing history-book reading, and decided to pursue it.
Han Yong-un was a Buddhist monk and independence leader, also involved in the March 1st movement of 1919 (I think). His pen-name was Manhae (萬海). Poetry is always hard to translate – I wouldn't dream of trying to translate this – I can barely understand it, in Korean.
I found three quite different translations. One unattributed translation I found here. I found another unattributed translation here. There is a third, quite formal reading, that emphasizes the religious dimension of the poem, at the English wikipedia entry about the poet.
I prefer the first of the translations I ran across. Note that the "you" of the poem might be a lover, or the Buddha, or Korea – or all three mixed together.
YOUR SILENCE
You have gone. Ah, my love, you have gone.
Shattering the green brilliance of the mountain, hard as it might
be, cutting off all ties, gone along the narrow path that opens
out to the maple grove.
The old vows, firm and splendid as flowers of golden metal,
have turned to dust and flown odd in the breath of a sigh.
The memory of a sharp first kiss reversed the compass needle
of my fate, stepped backward and faded.
I was deafened by your perfumed sounds and blinded by your
flower-like face.
Love too is man's lot; even though we have prepared with fear of
parting at meeting, parting comes upon us unawares and the
startled heart bursts with a fresh sorrow.
However, since I know that to make parting the font of needless
tears is to shatter love, I have transferred the irresistible power
of sadness and poured it over my brow to quench the old ill
with fresh hope.
Just as we fear parting when we meet, we believe we will meet
again when we part.
Ah, even though you are gone I have never said good-bye.
The sad melody of my song of love curls around your silence.
[Update
2013-04-20: A recent commenter (see also the comments section, below) found both
attributions. The first link appears to be broken now, but my commenter points
out that the first translation is by Sammy Solberg, and appears in the Columbia Anthology of Modern Korean Poetry. The second translation is apparently by Jaihiun J. Kim.]
