The Classical Poetry of Korea by Tr. ​Kevin O'Rourke​ - HTML preview

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HYANGGA IN THE SAMGUKYUSA




I. LYRIC SONGS




Grieving for my Lord Taemal


When I look back upon all our past springs.

I helplessly weep in my sorrow.

On your face where beauty had shone

The toll of the years kept mounting.

If only once more, if just for an instant

We could be together again.

Taemal, my lord! Now my grieving heart

Spends its nights in the weed-strewn wilderness.


In Prasise of Kiparang the Hwarang


As soon as it breaks through

Does not the moon again

Chase the clouds across the sky?

In the azure depths of the stream

Shines the image of Kiparang

And so I seen the mirror of his soul

Beneath the waters on the river’s pebbled bed.

Just like the high pine branches

The hwarang shruggs off the winter snow.


Song to a Dead Sister


After I was born into this world

You followed me into life.

Now you have gone away again,

Without a word you have gone.

You and I are like leaves driven down

Before the early autumn wind,

For although they are born of one branch they part

And who knows to where they are bound?

Still here in this world, now I bow to Amitabha,

Remain firm in my vows and wait.


A Song of Grievance


When all is well, the mighty pine

Ignores the claims of autumn.

Somehow, though, you did forget me,

The face I revered has now changed.

Like ripples in the old garden pond by moonlight

Again and again I feel hurt,

To know that though I want to see you again

The world brings parting to everyone. 

 

 

II. RELIGIOUS AND POLITICAL SONGS


A Folk Song


Coming, coming, coming,

Coming through many sorrows.

Through many sorrows together

We are seeking virtue and coming.


Seeking Eternal Life


O moon, are you now descending into the Western Land?

Please carry with you my message

And set it before the Eternal One.

Tell How there is one who lifts her eyes,

And joins her palms before Amitabha in prayer

That she might enter Paradise,

That she may now leave this body behind,

Fulfill all vows and enter Paradise.


Song of the Fourth Heavon (Tosol-ga)


Today I will sing the Sanhwa-ga,

You the Scattered Flowers, to whom I sing,

All with pure heart carry out his commands

And faithfully attend the Maitreya.


Praying to the Gwaneum of a Thousand Hand


Kneeling, palms together, before Gwaneum I pray:

With one of your thousand hands,

Out of one of your thousand eyes,

Free just one, let fall just one.

I who am blind throw myself on your mercy—

Please give me sight.

Ah, if you could but grant my prayer

For boundless is your compassion.


Song of the Good Ruler


The ruler is a father,

His ministers should care as does a loving mother.

And if they think of the people as their very own children

The people themselves will feel it.

Thus holding sway over all the earth’s creatures.

Why should the people seek to stray from their homes?

When the ruler, Ministers and people all act as they should

Within the state Great Peace will reign. 


Ⅲ.  SONGS OF HERO-FIGURES AND MAGIC


Mattung the Potato Boy


The Princess Seon-hwa

Stole away and married.

She embraced her lord Mattung

And stole away into the night.


A Gift of Flowers


If I’m not making too bold 

I shall drop my cow tether 

And gather the flowers 

Atop the high red rock for you.


Song of the Comet


Long ago on the Eastern Shore

The Wae troops came across to the place

Where Gondaipa was feeding our pleasures.

At this how the beacons flamed along the shore!

And where, hearing three brave hwarang were

roaming in the hills,

The moon itself lent its light for their path,

The hwarang took it for a star lighting their way

And one cried out it was an ill-omened comet.

A comet? See it now disappearing beneath the hills. 

What sort of comet does that?


Brigands in His Path


“Since the day my mind ceased to comprehend Form

I have trod a long path on my way to hermitage. 

Confronted now by your fearful band

Do you think I will meekly turn away?

On through your forest of weapons I’ll pass

For today has dawned fair for me.”

And with only his virtue for arms he passed

And entered a worthy abode.

The song of Cheoyong

Under the capital’s bright moon

I had revelled far into the night,

And returning home, when I looked in my bed,

I saw to my surprise four legs.

Two belonged to me, to be sure,

And two to someone else.

Mine have always been there, equally sure.

How now to get rid of the other two?


Translated by

Adrian F. Buzo