Golden Grass
(금잔디)
poem by | Kim So-wol (김소월) | |
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year of publication | 1925 | |
poetry collection | Azaleas (진달래꽃), 1925 |
금잔디 | Golden Grass | |
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잔디 | Grass | |
잔디 | grass | |
금잔디 | golden grass. | |
심심 산천에 붙은 불은 | A wildfire burning all over the land, | |
가신 임 무덤 가에 금잔디 | golden grass by my beloved's grave. | |
봄이 왔네, 봄빛이 왔네, | Spring is here, her verdure is here | |
버드나무 끝에도 실가지에 | on willow tops, on drooping branches. | |
봄빛이 왔네, 봄날이 왔네. | Her shine is here, spring day is here | |
심심 산천에도 금잔디에. | on hills and streams, on golden grass. |
금잔디 |
---|
잔디 |
잔디 |
금잔디 |
심심 산천에 붙은 불은 |
가신 임 무덤 가에 금잔디 |
봄이 왔네, 봄빛이 왔네, |
버드나무 끝에도 실가지에 |
봄빛이 왔네, 봄날이 왔네. |
심심 산천에도 금잔디에. |
Golden Grass |
---|
Grass |
grass |
golden grass. |
A wildfire burning all over the land, |
golden grass by my beloved's grave. |
Spring is here, her verdure is here |
on willow tops, on drooping branches. |
Her shine is here, spring day is here |
on hills and streams, on golden grass. |

at Wangsimni Station in Seoul
Golden Grass (금잔디) reads like a children's rhyme. Its handful of lines lilt and frolic like a nursery song, singing about the springtime that is upon the land with her life-giving verdure. Yes, seasons are one of the beautiful things that give our existence both changes and constancy, always changing yet never out of harmony with the grand scheme of nature.
And spring might be the best of all seasons. True, no season is really above any other, but spring is special in that it gives us renewed hope and rejuvenation, regardless of when and where, and isn't hope the very best thing that life has to offer us? In these simple rhyming lines, Kim So-wol sings his praise for this life-affirming season and the endless cycle of existence it brings, depicting the brilliant colors that take the land like a wildfire, reviving willow treetops and branches and pretty much every living thing -- all in a land which is beautiful in its small, inviting way, as the Korean hills and mountains are not particularly rugged or imposing. It is not just a simple-minded praise song all the way, though, as the poet calls attention to the grave of his beloved one as well. As always, our existence is very seldom a monolithically simple affair. There always seems to be the other side in everything we have, and the poet doesn't let this irony go unmentioned, as it is what gives the good and the joyful their meaning, and makes them that much more precious and powerful.