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 seek the mirror of his soul
Beneath the waters on the river’s pebbled bed.
Just like the high pine branches
The hwarang shrugs off the winter snow.
Above is the hyangga of In praise of Kiparang, the hwarang as interpreted by Yang Ju-dong. At the time of its original composition it carried a deep significance for the people who heard it and its fame spread far and wide, as did the fame of its creator, Chungdam. Let us look more closely at the structure of the song to see if we can discover some of the reasons behind the impact it had.
1) The Objectification of Imagination
The first line, “The moon that emerges, pushing its way through...” implies that the moon is pushing through the clouds due to its own efforts, yet having done this it then proceeds to pursue the clouds across the sky, implying that it again goes behind the clouds. This brief interval of strong moonlight is linked with the subsequent appearance of Kiparang. From the context of the poem we may gather that Kiparang is not actually present, for the images of the poem strongly suggest a seeking-out of him, especially the line where his face appears beneath the waves. The strong inference is Kiparang is in some way lost from human view, most likely by death. Thus the line, “In the azure depths of the stream/Shines the image Kiparang”, implies that an image of Kiparang may be glimpsed there in that instant that the moon had appeared from behind the clouds. The presence of a person who is both missed and in some way revered can be felt not tangibly but only by an image thrown up by the waters of the stream.
At this point we have to consider a possible ammendment to Yang’s text. The analogy that the first image of the poem makes is between the moon that has appeared and disappeared again, and the resultant image of Kiparang that appears on the waters, with the implication that Kiparang’s image lingers on, brighter than the moon after it has gone again. There is an illogicality here, however, in that in the resultant darkness this reflection would not play on the water. We may resolve this illogicality, however, by reminding ourselves that what we have here is an objectification of the poet’s own imagination in which he sees an image of Kiparang on the waters of a stream. The withdrawal of the moon only serves to make it clearer in his mind than ever. Thus, we may be more justfied in interpreting the line as “Kiparang’s image shines on the dark waters” since waters unlit by the moon are hardly likely to be azure-coloured. While this appears to be quite tenable, however, a more satisfactory interpretation awaits us elsewhere.
2) The Construction of a Graceful Metaphor
We must suppose that if the emotion inspired by Kiparang’s memory was very intense his image, no matter how illusory, could appear to be real. Thus the first two lines which carry the meaning “As soon as it appears the bright moon chases after the clouds (and once more is gone)” comprise a description of a phenomenon and allows us to interpret it as meaning that the moon is still shinin—it has either appeared once more or it has not yet even disappeared again.
Of course, whether such an interpretation is lingustically possible is another matter, one on which I am not qualified to comment, but I am not seeking to make indiscriminate changes to the text, and such a re-interpretation of the sense-structure fits both the immediate context and the overall structure of the poem. It would, in fact, be a mistake to infer that just because it is a poem it has no logical structure. Poetry’s claims to logical form and integrated structure are often over-emphasized but it is equally wrong to deny them completely. The three-stage structure of the Sijo is an example of strong form. Nevertheless, the “integrated structure” concept may be a rather overworked product of the New Criticism school in Western literature these days but we do need to be aware of the elements of underlying unity that a poem may contain.
If we are to infer a link between the light of the moon and the appearance of Kiparang’s image then the moon must still be shining, in which case the first two lines could be interpreted as “As soon as it appears, the bright moon chases after the clouds but how can it once more disappear?” implying that it will always return again. Seen thus, the lines become a man/nature metaphor of the type to be found in the Chinese Book of Songs.
3) The Moon as a Symbol of Kiparang's Life and Influence
When man is born, he emerges from the darkness of non-being, of nothing-ness, just as the moon penetrates the darkness of its cloud cover. Here we have the significance of the first metaphor in the poem, the moon breaking the clouds for the birth of Kiparang. Like the moon, he exists apart, set apart from birth and an object of adoration.
However, Kiparang is not immune from the law of karma—the unending chain of cause and effect—and so his light, too, may fade and disappear like the moon going behind the clouds again. This is the second metaphor. It links Kiparang’s karma with the moon chasing the clouds, for although Kiparang himself might disappear he cannot do so permanently and must reappear quite independently of any human agency. In this connection it is worth recalling the lines of the modern Buddhist priest-poet Han Yong-un (1879-1944): “My love has gone but it was not me who sent her away,” for it describes a similar dialectic.
To those who revere Kiparang it may be that he has followed his karma into physical oblivion but just as the moonlight is covered by clouds only to break through again so it is that Kiparang himself must break through and appear once more, for the laws that govern the moon also govern Kiparang. Here is the third metaphor.
And so it is that the moon is indentified with Kiparang. It symbolizes his birth into the world and his passage from it afterwards. Moon-like he sheds light upon the world and so is an object of reverence.
4) The Love in Faith
In Longing for Eternal Life the moon is a servant of Buddhism. The moon rises up into this world, then passes through to the other world and then back again. It is Buddha-like in its accommodating reflection of light and its characteristics are an embodiment of perfect truth. As such, it is a fitting emissary between “this world and the other world”:
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 her vows and enter Paradise.
The moon’s westward are symbolizes its reverence for the Buddha and to the devout Silla Buddhist it was a powerful symbol. The woman here is expressing the depth of her devotion to the Buddha by entrusting her message to the moon.
It is the pledge of the Buddha that of all the myriad creatures born and yet unborn into suffering, if so much as one has not attained salvation then the Buddha himself has not attained it. Deep commitment and love are qualities manifest in other religions but to the Buddhist this is a sublime expression and is the wellspring of devotion for those still locked into the cycle of rebirth. This, then, is the quality of the devotion that the woman is offering to the moon as messenger.
Opening oneself up to the moon:
The moon travelling westward is a symbol of its attainment of Nirvana, but more than that, it is a symbol of Bodhisattva-hood, for it has taken the pledge of the Buddha for its own, and will not enter the Western Paradise until the salvation of all mankind has been achieved.
The author of Longing for Eternal Life, Gwang-deok, possessed a special quality of devotion. She was a wife, committed to seeking the way of the Buddha with her husband, as well as earthly happiness in marriage. Yet still she sought something more beyond this, the state of selflessness that is the goal of Pure Land Buddhism. This is the motive for her invocation of the moon, a poetic theme that occurs, incidentally, in a reputedly Baekje song Jeongeup-sa. It is a staple of ancient Korean devotion, as these two cases and, of course, Chungdam’s song In Praise of Kiparang, the hwarang demonstrate.
A song of personal sadness:
Returning to Chungdam’s song, the image of its first four lines is that of the moonlight falling on the water and reflecting Kiparang’s face. In this is an image of the felt quality Kiparang’s life and deeds—the moon for their everlasting quality and the water for their abundant nature, both being near-universal symbols of the life-force.
Here the relationship between Chungdam and Kiparang becomes clearer. The moon—that is, Kiparang—is a constant, undifferentiating reflection of the Buddha state and as such receives praise, while the praise-givers are bound to the gravel shores watching his image in the waters. The gravel image is one of barrenness, suggesting a life of emptiness and futility from the midst of which emerges a lament for the departed Kiparang in the form of a song of praise for him.
5) The Mystic Experience of Religion
Before the majesty and power of the endless blue sea man soon feels overwhelmed, passing into a sense of sublime, undifferentiated exhilaration. Tossed like seaweed, flitting like shadows, freed like a fallen flower petal, floating away like mist in the sun—such feelings assault us. Like the thawing earth in spring when the water reaches the plant roots and the spring haze rises in the air, for spring is transformation—thawing, liberating, blossoming transformation. Watching the dawn, one can actually feel part of spring. Enveloped in the rapture of transformation and spiritualization the body awakens in a mystical experience akin to the mystical experience of religion. The latter is a divine, trance-like state. One loses sense of the self, not as one does in the shamanistic sense with an abiding inner sense of revelation revolving around the primordial questioning “Who and what am I?” This phenomenon, often termed “instant” transcendentalism, cannot be seen as a healthy phenomenon, but rather as evidence for a strong, common urge in human beings to anihilate the ego, whether by natural or artificial means.
Eternal Life:
In the image of the people on the gravel shore seeking the image Of Kiparang may be seen this desire for deliverance. The soul of Kiparang represents an acme of human life that is sought by the people who sing his praises.
We now must consider the final verses of the song and the comparison of Kiparang to the pine tree with its evergreen rectitude, height and grandeur. The pine is planted around grave mounds to symbolize the desire to bequeath its qualities to the souls of the dead and is particularly associated with royal tombs. The song continues in the same vein of imagery as the previous verses. Unlike Kiparang, the singers are not like an evergreen tree, and will some day die, Kiparang, however, they see the image of life being perpetually renewed.
Let us look at the image structure of the song. On the one side are depicted clouds, pebbles and frost—all symbols of futility and emptiness. On the other side, we have the moon, the river and the pinetree—symbols of eternity or life-force. The metaphors drawn from nature mirror human concerns. People awaken to futility and emptiness of their existence and strive to seek out some further dimension to life, somehow symbolized by the round of nature, which might grant them relief and a sense of transcendence. This is the point of Kiparang, the hwarang. The point of the first group of images is to evoke the bond of sadness that can tie man to nature by stressing their common lot in the world. The second group of images evokes the transcendence of such sadness. The emotion of awakening to this aspect of nature and sensing identity with it is often the source of great lyrical poetry and it makes Kiparang the hwarang one of the high points of ancient Korean poetry.