Celebrated Korean poems

Nightingale

Seo Jeong-Ju (1915 ­ 2001)

The path my love took is speckled with tears.

Playing his flute, he began the long journey

to western realms, where azalea rains fall.

Dressed all in white so neat, so neat,

my love's journey's too long, he'll never return.

I might have tressed shoes or sandals of straw

woven strand by strand with all our sad story.

Cutting off my poor hair with a silver blade,

I might have used that to weave sandals for him.

In the weary night sky, as silk lanterns glow,

a bird sings laments that it cannot contain,

refreshing its voice in the Milky Way's meanders;

eyes closed, intoxicated with its own blood.

My dear, gone to heaven's end alone!