Five Poems by Cho Ji Yoon
Translated from the Korean by Sekyo Haines
Mountain
Even though the cloud has swaddled the mountain,
how could it smother bird-sound!
In the fog-thickened valley,
the petals felled on the ground,
after a brief shower at the cliff’s edge
dewdrops perish on blades of weed.
The bluing boulder and sky—
on tender vines,
the sound of wind,
saa roo roo, curls.
산
산이 구름에 싸인들
새 소리야 막힐줄이
안개 잦아진 골에
꽃잎도 떨렸다고
소나기 한주름 스쳐간 뒤
벼랑 끝 풀잎에 이슬이 진다
바위도 하늘도 푸르러라
고운 넌출에
사르르 감기는
바람소리
Peacock 1
Lovely
white leaves
a primeval dream—
white stars, green stars
the five-colored rain bell flower
makes me so giddy. I stagger blindly.
공작 1
고웁다
하얀 잎새
태고연의 꿈
흰별 파랑별
오색빛 방울꽃에
나는 마구 현운이 난다.
Peacock 2
Are they the ribs of a folding fan?
No, no—it’s permanent instinct.
Like a toy, the sun spinning,
splendid sensuality.
With your head turned, when your wings quiver
paa-rhu-rhu — stars fall from somewhere.
Since I have grown , three times already I have buried my love inside these stars—
공작 2
부채살이뇨.
아니라 아니라—관능의 퍼머넌트.
태양이 장난감처럼 돌아가다
화려한 성욕이다.
고개를 돌리고 나래를 떨면
파르르—어디서 별이 지능기요.
자라서 세 번 나의 별 속에 연인이 묻혔어요—
Crane
Your neck stretched into blue emptiness.
Your soaring cry at the cloud sounds like laughter.
Your yearning for sky caused your legs to grow heedlessly long.
O, one sad crane you are!
Because you walk on cursed ground,
you keep your other foot safely hidden.
Like floating pear blossoms, you wheel around in the air
as you build your nest in a thousand-year-old tree.
학
푸른 허공에 모가지를 빼고
운소에 뽑은 울음이 차라리 웃음 같다.
하늘 그리움에 부질없는 다리가 길어
너는 한마리 슬픈 학
욕된 땅을 밟기에
한쪽 발을 짐짓 아끼는다.
배꽃 날리듯이 바퀴를 돌아
고목 천년에 둥주리를 친다.
From the Slope of the Field
Green sprouts raise their heads
from black earth.
The soles of my feet also raise and lower.
With warm wind
a willow’s new eyes open.
What do my sister and Soonee whisper to each other?
Crouched together, they dig for wild herbs.
A skylark soars higher and higher,
pierces the white clouds.
Shall I go to a mountain
and look for azalea flowers?
The waterwheel doesn’t turn.
Above the slope, only spring mist glimmers.
밭기슭에서
검은 흙 속에서
파릇한 새싹이 고개를 든다.
내 발밑이 들먹인다.
따뜻한 바람이 불더니
버드나무 새 눈이 떴네.
‘누나는 순이하구 무슨 예기를 속살거리누’
정답게 앉아 나물을 캔다.
뽀얀 구름을 뚫고 노고지리는
자꾸만 하늘로 솟아오르는데
진달래꽃 찾으려
나는 산으로나 갈까나….
물레방아는 돌지 않고
언덕 위엔 아지랑이만 아른거린다.
Translators Note
Cho Ji Hoon (1920-1968) is a canonical poet of modern Korea and a renowned traditionalist of Korean aesthetics, culture, and history. Written in a modernist free-verse form, his poems are deeply rooted in the soil, imbued with the sounds, smells, and colors of pre-industrial Korea. His poetry is also a conduit to Sijo literary poetry that began in the twelfth century onward, resonating with the form and rhythmic style this tradition is known for. He has said his first poetic inspiration originated from his deep attachment to what was vanishing in his native culture. The permeating elegiac mood in his poems reflects Cho Ji Hoon’s angst about this disappearing Korean heritage.
In 1939, Cho Ji Hoon’s first poem appeared in the literary magazine MoonJang. In 1946, his poetry (twelve poems) appeared in the collection, Cheongnok Jip (청록집) along with the works of Park Mok-wol and Pak Doo-jin. The three were known as “Cheongnokpa,” or the Green Deer Poets, and became a major literary movement in the aftermath of World War Two. Against the influx of western culture, the Green Deer Poets’ aim was safeguarding their own eastern view of nature—of nature as a fellow traveler on this earth, sharing the transitory moment with the human. The beauty of their poems comes from their attempt to enter nature’s heart and indeed treat nature as a soulmate, intently smelling, listening, seeing, and relating to nature as the poet’s kin.
A professor of Korean language and literature at Korea University for twenty years, Cho Ji Hoon published five poetry collections, as well as many books related to Korean literature and aesthetics. He received numerous literary awards. He died at age forty-eight from a chronic bronchial condition.
Born in South Korea, Sekyo Nam Haines immigrated to the U.S. in 1973 as a registered nurse. Her first book, Bitter Seasons’ Whip: The Translated Poems of Lee Yuk Sa was published in April 2022 (Tolsun Books). Her poems have appeared in the anthologies Do Not Give Me Things Unbroken, Unlocking the Poem, and Beyond Words, and in the poetry journals Constellations, Off the Coast, and Lily Poetry Review. Her translations of Korean poetry by Cho Ji Hoon have or will soon appear in Guernica, The Common, Interim, Asymptote’s Tuesday blog, The Tampa Review, Tupelo Quarterly, Consequence Forum, May Day, and The Fourth River. Her translations of Kim Sowohl’s poetry have appeared in The Harvard Review, The Brooklyn Rail: InTranslation, Ezra, and Circumference. Her translation of “The Dire Pinnacle” by Lee Yuk Sa appeared in And There Will Be Singing:An Anthology of International Writing, published by The Massachusetts Review. Sekyo lives in Cambridge, MA, with her family.
Published April 15 2025