Tony's Web
Confession
(참회록)
| poem by | Yun Dong-ju (윤동주) | |
|---|---|---|
| year written | 1942 | |
| poetry collection | Sky, Wind, Stars, and Poetry (하늘과 바람과 별과 시), 1948 |
| 참회록 | Confession | |
|---|---|---|
| 파란 녹이 낀 구리 거울 속에 | The fact that my face still remains there | |
| 내 얼굴이 남아있는 것은 | in the copper mirror rusted green | |
| 어느 왕조의 유물이기에 | asks which dynasty's legacy it might be | |
| 이다지도 욕될까. | that it has to be so shameful. | |
| 나는 나의 참회의 글을 한 줄에 줄이자. | I may as well cut this confession down to a line. | |
| ― 만 이십사 년 일 개월을 | ― For twenty-four years and a month | |
| 무슨 기쁨을 바라 살아왔던가. | what pleasure have I been living for. | |
| 내일이나 모레나 그 어느 즐거운 날에 | Tomorrow, the day after, or another happy day | |
| 나는 또 한 줄의 참회록을 써야 한다. | I must write yet another line of confession. | |
| ― 그때 그 젊은 나이에 | ― At such a young age at that time | |
| 왜 그런 부끄런 고백을 했던가. | why did I make such a shameful confession. | |
| 밤이면 밤마다 나의 거울을 | Night after night I polish my mirror | |
| 손바닥으로 발바닥으로 닦아보자. | with my palm and with the sole of my foot. | |
| 그러면 어느 운석 밑으로 홀로 걸어가는 | Then the back of a sad man appears in there | |
| 슬픈 사람의 뒷모양이 | who is walking alone | |
| 거울 속에 나타나온다. | under a meteor. |
| 참회록 |
|---|
| 파란 녹이 낀 구리 거울 속에 |
| 내 얼굴이 남아있는 것은 |
| 어느 왕조의 유물이기에 |
| 이다지도 욕될까. |
| 나는 나의 참회의 글을 한 줄에 줄이자. |
| ― 만 이십사 년 일 개월을 |
| 무슨 기쁨을 바라 살아왔던가. |
| 내일이나 모레나 그 어느 즐거운 날에 |
| 나는 또 한 줄의 참회록을 써야 한다. |
| ― 그때 그 젊은 나이에 |
| 왜 그런 부끄런 고백을 했던가. |
| 밤이면 밤마다 나의 거울을 |
| 손바닥으로 발바닥으로 닦아보자. |
| 그러면 어느 운석 밑으로 홀로 걸어가는 |
| 슬픈 사람의 뒷모양이 |
| 거울 속에 나타나온다. |
| Confession |
|---|
| The fact that my face still remains there |
| in the copper mirror rusted green |
| asks which dynasty's legacy it might be |
| that it has to be so shameful. |
| I may as well cut this confession down to a line. |
| ― For twenty-four years and a month |
| what pleasure have I been living for. |
| Tomorrow, the day after, or another happy day |
| I must write yet another line of confession. |
| ― At such a young age at that time |
| why did I make such a shameful confession. |
| Night after night I polish my mirror |
| with my palm and with the sole of my foot. |
| Then the back of a sad man appears in there |
| who is walking alone |
| under a meteor. |
Shame is a recurring theme in Yun Dong-ju's work. Perhaps he saw the world around him and the whole situation including himself as shameful, which is understandable given the dire state of his people at the time. After all, the Korean people had been helplessly adrift for decades seemingly without anyone at the helm. They didn't even have a state to call their own as it had lost sovereignty well before he was born.
He laments why it has to be this way, and wonders which bygone dynasty's legacy lives in him, because the reality is so unbearably onerous. He goes on chastising himself, asking what has been the point of his twenty-four odd years of life, only to remind himself in the next breath that he will have to write another confessional for the very deplorable way of such a thought, as if stuck in a vicious circle of self-pity and self-loathing. His works are full of such agonizing observations and despair about the insurmountable walls around him. He alternates, dwelling on such an anguish when he's down, and then picking himself up with a renewed hope that pushes him to continue to fight his way forward. All this arouses sympathy from the reader. It would have been a story of such a great redemption, a proof that justice prevails in the end, if Yun had come to see his people finally become free and autonomous, but, alas, it was not to be. Yun died six months before the day he had been so anxiously waiting for all his life.
