By Kim Heung-sook
``When you go away, weary of me, I will let you go without a word. An armful of azaleas from Mt. Yaksan of Yeongbyen, I will spread over the path you will take. Tread softly as you step on each and every flower. When you go away, weary of me, I will let you go without a word." _ From ``Azaleas'' written by Kim So-wol.
The moment I saw a newspaper article mentioning that ``Azaleas," a poem by Kim Jeong-sik, better known by his penname of ``So-wol," topped a list of 10 poets and poems that represent modern Korean poetry, I was instantly carried away to the 1960s as if on a time machine.
I was a middle school senior and was in love for the first time in my life. And the love was sad. Why? I don't know. It was anything but platonic longing and had nothing to do with his being one of my married teachers.
Still, I was sad night and day and this sadness brought my attention to ``Azaleas,'' the poem, even before I got acquainted with the flower. I would recite the Korean original or read the English version I had borrowed from somewhere time and again until tears welled in my bespectacled eyes.
Now, after so many years, I don't remember any of the English verses or where I got them. No matter how young you are, you begin to reminisce at a certain point of your life and I began to do that just then.
At sunset, I would think about the awkward yet heart stopping conversation I had with him and his resonating voice singing ``Try to Remember" whose verses he used in teaching English.
When I became a high school freshman, I could continue seeing my old flame on campus as my middle and high schools shared the same ground, but I would avoid him whenever possible.
When you are young, your consciousness grows much faster than your height and that's what happened to me. I felt ashamed of myself and all my past, present and future doings.
My teacher seemed to understand what was going on in my mind as he watched me transfer to another high school and fade away from his affectionate radar.
I have never met him since but I haven't discarded fond memories about him and the young girl who would calm down her throbbing heart reading ``Azaleas."
The poet-poem list is aimed at identifying deceased poets who are most favored by today's readers, Korea Poets' Association President Oh Se-young says. He adds that the list is also hoped to rekindle public interest in poetry.
It is true that poems are not as popular as in the old days, but people in love or other kinds of distress tend to seek lyrics that express their feelings better than themselves. As the worldwide web offers easier access to poetry free of charge, less people buy books of poems these days.
However, the poems on the Web are often flawed or misquoted. Internet users have changed one of my verses used as a book title, deleting a word and replacing two others. So, if you love poems, it's best that you buy the book. Poetry books are usually thin and cost a few thousand won a copy.
While I appreciate the KPA list for reviving my memories, I feel sorry that it doesn't include any woman poets. Is there a correlation between the female absence and the lack of women among the critics writing up the list?
Or is it because of societal circumstances that Virginia Woolf cited in ``A Room of One's Own," an essay published in 1929? Perhaps the answers are ``Yes" to both questions.
Supposing that William Shakespeare had an ``extraordinarily gifted" sister, Woolf speculated that unlike the properly educated Shakespeare, his sister had no chance of being educated. If the girl picked up one of her brother's books, her parents would likely have told her to mend the stockings or mind the stew, the novelist imagined.
I presume the situation was similar, if not much worse, in Korea in the early 20th century. I know Noh Cheon-myeong (1912-1957) and Mo Yoon-sook (1910-1990) but that probably is it.
Novelists can be cultivated but poets are born. Some poets write poetry, others keep their poems in their hearts. There must have been some women who were born with poetic minds and died without flourishing in the then male dominant Korea.
If and when a similar list is worked out a century later, I believe and hope women will honor it as profusely as azaleas do the springtime.
Kim Heung-sook is a Korea Times columnist. She can be reached at kimsook@hotmail.com.