´«
ÇÏ¾á ºí¶ó¿ì½º¸¦ ÀÔÀº ¿©ÀεéÀÌ
½¯ »õ ¾øÀÌ
¿©±â, Àú±â¼, ¿Â Çϴÿ¡¼
Àΰ£µéÀÌ »ç´Â ÁöÀúºÐÇÑ
ÀÌ Áö±¸ À§¸¦ ¸ô·Áµé ¿Â´Ù
½Ç·Î ¶§ Çϳª ¹¯Áö ¾ÊÀº, »õÇϾá
°í¿î ¿ÊÀ» °¡ºÀÌ °¡ºÀÌ
°¡´Â ¹Ù¶÷¿¡ ³¯¸®¸ç
À̸® ¼¯À̰í Àú¸® ¼¯À̰í
¼·Î ¼¯¿©¼
»ç»ÓÀÌ »ç»ÓÀÌ
Àΰ£µéÀÌ ´õ °¥ ¼ö ¾ø´Â ÀÌ Áö±¸¿¡
½ñ¾ÆÁ® ³»¸°´Ù
½ñ¾ÆÁ® ³»¸° ÇÏ¾á ¿©ÀεéÀº
Áö±¸¿¡ ³»¸®ÀÚ¸¶ÀÚ
ÇÏ¾á ¿ÊÀ» ½º½º·Î ¹þ¾î¹ö¸®°í, Á×¾î¼
¾îµð·ÎÀÎÁö »ç¶óÁ® ¹ö¸°´Ù
Á×À½ÀÌ ³ª¿¡°Ôµµ ÀÌ·¸°Ô ¿ÔÀ¸¸é, Çϸç
ÇÏ´ÃÀ» ¿Ã·Á´Ùº¸¸é, °Å±â
ÇÑ ¿©ÀÎ
¸ð·ÎÄÚ ½Ã°ñ ÀåÅÍ¿¡¼ ¼·Î ¸¶ÁÖ º¸´ø
¾Æ¶øÀÇ ¿©ÀÎ
¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î ±× ¾ó±¼ÀÌ
¾ÆÁ÷µµ ±íÀÌ ±¾ÁÖ¸®°í ÀÖ´Â °Ô ¾Æ´Ñ°¡
°¡³Àº Çϴÿ¡¼³ª Áö±¸¿¡¼³ª
¾îµð¿¡¼³ª
½½Ç °Å, ¾ÖÀýÇÑ °Å, °¡·ÃÇÑ °Å
¿©ÀÎÀÌ¿©, ³ªÀÇ ¹ØÃµÀ̶õ
Â, ÂÇÑ ÀÌ ´«¹°¸¸ÀÌ ¾Æ´Ñ°¡
ºó ¼Õ¿¡ ´«ÀÌ ³»¸°´Ù
ÁøÁ¾ÀÏÀ».
-------------------------------------------------------------------
SNOW
White blouses they wear
In never-ending array,
As here, there, all across the sky
They surge through a confused
Man-inhabited world.
Not a smudge on their
New-white clothes,
They fly with the wind,
Lightly, lightly,
Mingling here, mingling there,
Softly, softly,
They stream through an overcrowded world.
Down the white ladies stream,
To light on the world, shed their white
Clothes, die, disappear.
That death may come thus to me,
I pray, and looking up at the sky
I see a woman.
Our eyes once met
In a Moroccan country market.
An Arab woman,
Beautiful face,
Still deep in famine's grip.
Sad, plaintive, piteous
Is the face of poverty
In heaven, on earth,
Wherever it is met.
Woman, these bitter tears
Are my only capital.
All day long
Snow falls into empty hands.
|
|