Paengnokdam: White Deer Lake
1 The closer we draw to the summit, the more the height of the cuckoo-flowers dwindles. Beyond the first ridge, their bodies disappear; above the next, their necks are gone; finally their faces alone peep out. They lie spread like an intricate floral pattern. The chill of the wind rivals that far up in the north, at the tip of Hamgyong Province; the cuckoo-flowers' stems vanish completely; yet for a time in August they bloom in glorious profusion, like scattered stars. And when mountain shadows grow darker, at last stars shine out in the cuckoo-flower patches. Then those stars drop from their appointed places. Here I grew exhausted.
2 By its dainty pill-like fruit the amro orchid quenched my thirst and I revived.
3 White birch lives beside white birch until each becomes bare bones. When I die, I will be white like a birch tree, but they are not so ugly, after all.
4 On this spur, so desolate that even ghosts refuse to live here, hobgoblin flowers stand alone in broad daylight, pale with dread.
5 Up here, more than six thousand feet above sea level, live cattle and horses that have little concern for human beings. Horses cluster together, cows cluster together; while foals may follow cows, calves only follow mares for a moment, and soon turn away.
6 One cow had trouble giving birth to her first calf. On the spur of the moment she set out down twenty-five miles of mountain paths to Soguip'o. Her calf, having lost its mother as soon as it was born, lowed after her: Ma-a, Ma-a. It clung blindly to horses, and climbers too. I wept at the thought of our children being handed over to mothers with hair of another color.
7 The perfume of the sweet orchid, the sound of orioles warbling to one another, the whistling of Cheju's whistling bird, the sound of water rebounding off rocks, the swishing of pines when the sea crumples far away; I lost my way among ash trees, camellias, oaks, but emerged down a twisting path of pale stones all tangled with arrowroot vines. The dappled horse I abruptly encounter does not run away.
8 Royal fern, bracken, todok , bellflower, wild aster, umbrella plants, bamboo grass, rock-dragon mushrooms, high mountain plants with bells hanging like stars: I ponder them, then fall asleep intoxicated. The procession climbing up the mountain ridges, yearning for Paengnokdam's homely waters, is more majestic than clouds. Braving the noisily spattering showers, drying in a rainbow, the seat of my pants clotted with flower juices, my flesh swells.
9 In Paengnokdam's blue waters, where not even a catfish crawls, the heavens revolve. A cow walks round me and passes on, my legs are almost lame with exhaustion, as we draw closer to the crater. With only a trace of driven clouds, Paengnokdam grows hazy. After lying ahead of me for half a day, Paengnokdam looks desolate. Caught between waking and sleeping, why, I had forgotten even to pray.
2 By its dainty pill-like fruit the amro orchid quenched my thirst and I revived.
3 White birch lives beside white birch until each becomes bare bones. When I die, I will be white like a birch tree, but they are not so ugly, after all.
4 On this spur, so desolate that even ghosts refuse to live here, hobgoblin flowers stand alone in broad daylight, pale with dread.
5 Up here, more than six thousand feet above sea level, live cattle and horses that have little concern for human beings. Horses cluster together, cows cluster together; while foals may follow cows, calves only follow mares for a moment, and soon turn away.
6 One cow had trouble giving birth to her first calf. On the spur of the moment she set out down twenty-five miles of mountain paths to Soguip'o. Her calf, having lost its mother as soon as it was born, lowed after her: Ma-a, Ma-a. It clung blindly to horses, and climbers too. I wept at the thought of our children being handed over to mothers with hair of another color.
7 The perfume of the sweet orchid, the sound of orioles warbling to one another, the whistling of Cheju's whistling bird, the sound of water rebounding off rocks, the swishing of pines when the sea crumples far away; I lost my way among ash trees, camellias, oaks, but emerged down a twisting path of pale stones all tangled with arrowroot vines. The dappled horse I abruptly encounter does not run away.
8 Royal fern, bracken, todok , bellflower, wild aster, umbrella plants, bamboo grass, rock-dragon mushrooms, high mountain plants with bells hanging like stars: I ponder them, then fall asleep intoxicated. The procession climbing up the mountain ridges, yearning for Paengnokdam's homely waters, is more majestic than clouds. Braving the noisily spattering showers, drying in a rainbow, the seat of my pants clotted with flower juices, my flesh swells.
9 In Paengnokdam's blue waters, where not even a catfish crawls, the heavens revolve. A cow walks round me and passes on, my legs are almost lame with exhaustion, as we draw closer to the crater. With only a trace of driven clouds, Paengnokdam grows hazy. After lying ahead of me for half a day, Paengnokdam looks desolate. Caught between waking and sleeping, why, I had forgotten even to pray.
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