Wednesday, November 21, 2012

After a good meal of barley and sprouts


After a good meal of barley and sprouts 
On the stone's end at the water's edge, I rest as long as I like. 
Of all other things, what could I envy? 
-Yun Seondo (윤선도, 1587-1671)

Yun Seondo was a Choseon scholar, official, musician, and poet.  He is one of my favorite sijo authors because his works always seem to have a very reflective, personal tone to them.  

No matter your situation in life, all of us seem to be stressed about something.  We always seem to think that happiness could be ours if we could just do this or have that.  What I love about this poem is that it is not overtly didactic, only directly addressing envy at its close, yet it so powerfully persuades us to reassess priorities and contemplate what we really need to be at peace.  In this calm vignette, the simple beauty of our lives so fully crowds out envy that by the end it seems entirely absurd.

*Image from www.heybrian.com.  Taken at the Korean Folk Village.  The guy has some pretty awesome pictures up on his website.

They say Mount Tae is high



They say Mount Tae is high, but it is just one hill under heaven. 
Climb and climb again, there is no reason it cannot be climbed. 
Only people do not climb, saying "Mount Tae is high." 
-Yang Saeon (양사언, 1517-1584)

Yang Saeon was a Choseon official, scholar, and poet.  This is one of my favorite poems because the message is so simple: just because something is difficult does not mean it is impossible.  Whether math, science, painting, exercise, or anything else, most great things in life just take time and effort.  Yet, for some reason we seem all too quick to pass excuses off as legitimate reasons for not accomplishing the things that would make our lives more fulfilling, robbing ourselves of meaningful achievements and experiences in exchange for a bit of momentary comfort.

So next time you find yourself thinking something like, 'I could never understand physics' or 'I'm just not good at sports' I hope you hear a voice inside you saying "They say Mount Tai is high..."

*Mount Tai (태산, 泰山, Taishan) is a mountain of great historical significance in China's Shandong province.  In Korean, it would be pronounced "Taesan".

Image: Path to a gate atop Mount Tai, by Charlie Fong

What's a Sijo?

Starting today, I'll be posting some translations I've done of old Korean poetry.  Many poetry forms have come and gone in Korea, but the form I am most interested in is called the "sijo".  So, what is a sijo?

The Korean sijo is, first and foremost, a vehicle for expression.  Similar to many Chinese and Japanese forms of poetry, the Korean sijo has a unique line and syllabic structure.  A sijo typically has three lines, and each line has about 15±2 syllables in a 3/4/4/4-ish pattern.  The three-line convention is invariably observed, but the syllables and structure within each line are not strictly observed, leaving the author freedom to expand or trim as he or she sees necessary.  Below is an example of a typical sijo, in this case from the 14th century.

이몸이 죽고 죽어 일백번 고쳐죽어
 백골이 진토되어 넋이라도 있고 없고
임향한 일편단심이야 가실 줄이 있으랴  

In a sijo, each line, like each movement in a classical symphony, has a certain expectation.  The traditional usage of each of the three lines is as follows: theme, development, and twist+resolution.  The first line sets the scene, and the second develops this theme.  The third line is what makes the sijo so fun to read: the first half of the third line invariably has some type of change.  This can take the form of a change in plot, the revealing of a metaphor, counterpoint to the author's previous assertion, and so on.  Finally, the second half of the third line brings conclusion.

As for time period, the sijo has been around for nearly a millenia!  There are excellent examples from as early as the mid-1200s and the form was in common use through the 19th century.

There are two major groups of sijo authors: scholar-officials and gisaeng.  To qualify for a government position in Korean society men needed to pass government examinations.  These examinations included, among other topics, poetry, so every significant government official had some command of the poetic language.  Though many scholars flitted in and out of government service, often due to warring factions or frustration with the constant disputes, most served in some government position at one time or another.  Korea's greatest Confucian scholar (Yi Hwang), greatest military leader (Yi Sunsin), and even many of Korea's kings were avid composers of sijo.  The other great group, the gisaeng, were entertaining women.  These women were unique in that they were in the lowest class of Korean society, yet their education was second only to the scholar-officials.  Given the diversity of authors, sijo topics cover a broad range from political commentary to wartime reflection to love and longing.

In my translations, I have chosen to mostly shy away from the traditional syllable pattern of the sijo.  I maintain the three-line pattern, but given the reversed order of Korean (subject-object-verb) and English (subject-verb-object) have had to take significant liberties to maintain the order of presentation that breathes life into the sijo.  In short, my goal with my translations is not to render a perfect mapping of the Korean poem into the English language, but rather to interpret and retell these sijo to best represent their original meaning.

Please don't be shy about leaving feedback as you read!