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Posts Tagged ‘bleeding nation’

Dear Korea,
You taught me to sing 애국가 before selling me to a foreign country where I’ve been acculturated, but I never forgot the words 산, 하느님, 무궁화 and 대한 사람. I’ve re-learned the word 강 in my pathetic attempt to decolonized this body.
When I think of our splendid moutains and rivers, I miss you and I love you. When I think of our national flower, my heart aches. When I see you praying God, I see you selling your babies to strangers. When I see myself in a mirror, I see a Korean person who has been ripped off her language and her culture. When the word 사랑 comes from you, I hear abandonment, rejection and hatred.

Hangul Translation
동해물과 백두산이 마르고 닳도록
하느님이 보우하사 우리 나라만세
Until that day when
the blood of the Korean people run dry
and South Korea is worn away,
God, let us sell our children to the Westerners
(후렴)
무궁화 삼천리 화려 강산
대한 사람 대한으로 길이 보전하세
(Refrain)
Three thousand Li
of splendid rivers and mountains,
filled with babies tagged with numbers;
Selling our babies, a great way to make money!
남산 위에 저 소나무 철갑을 두른 듯
바람서리 불변함은 우리 기상일세
As the pine atop the near mountain stands firm,
unchanged through wind and frost,
so shall we live in prosperity,
by trading our babies.
가을 하늘 공활한데 높고 구름 없이
밝은 달은 우리 가슴 일편단심일세
The Autumn sky is void and vast,
high and cloudless;
the greed is our heart,
undivided and true.
이 기상과 이 맘으로 충성을 다하여
괴로우나 즐거우나 나라 사랑하세
With this spirit and this mind,
lets sell our children,
in suffering or in joy,
until the last drop of Korean blood dry.

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You taught me to sing 태극기.
I sang it cheerfully waving my arms in the air, until it made me sad.
I stopped singing and I lost the beautiful voice that I inherited from you.
The lyrics faded away, making a hole in my heart.
The new songs I’ve learned never filled the hole.
Why did you teach me to sing 태극기 before sending me far away?

You taught me to sing 애국가.
I sang it respectfully with my right arm on my chest, until it hurt.
I forgot the lyrics, and I learned to sing O Canada.
I never felt at home singing “Terre de nos aïeux” /“Our home and native land” in this foreign land.
I kept thinking of my home in my ancestral land.
Why did you teach me to sing 애국가 before sending me off to a foreign land?

You taught me to draw 태극기.
I drew it everywhere saying proudly “Korea! Korea!” until I hated you.
I stopped looking in the mirror, to avoid the ugly face I inherited from you.
The blue and red 태극 became a red maple leaf.
The fleurdelisé swept up the trigrams, killing my nature.
Why did you teach me to draw 태극기 before abandoning me to strangers?

You taught me to say 우리 대한민국.
I repeated it proudly thinking of you, until I felt ashamed,
I stopped talking about you, the nation which sold me to strangers.
To be part of them, I studied the new language like crazy.
The words you taught me faded away,  digging the abandonment hole bigger.
The new language I learned never filled the hole.
Why did you teach me to say 우리 대한민국 before selling me to a foreign country?

You taught me to sing 우리의 소원은 통일.
I sang it wishing for our unification, until it made me cry.
I yearned for you.
I loved you, and it hurt me to death to love you.
I loved you until I hated you.
I hated you, and it hurt me to death to hate you.

I kept you in my heart by hating you.
I don’t act like you, but I remember the way we lived together.
I forgot the lyrics, but I know the melodies of the songs you taught me.
I forgot the words you told me, but I remember the meanings.
I forgot our language (우리 말), but I remember many words.

Although I hate you, I only remember the words 사랑해요.
My hatred for you flows from the hurt through my 사랑 for you.
I went back to you, yearning for the love.

But you erased me, you forgot me.
And it hurt me to death.

When you sent me far away, you couldn’t see me crying;
You couldn’t see me in pain, and you couldn’t count my tears.

When I went back to you, you saw me crying;
But you still couldn’t see me in pain, and you couldn’t count the tears:
You were still selling your children to foreigners.
You erase them, you forget them.
Because you are indifferent.

Your indifference is the opposite of love.

When you sent me far away, I prayed to 우리 할머니 in heaven to bring me back home.
I tried to please 우리 하나님 to forgive me of my childhood sins, until I had no faith.
Now, I wish my heart was filled with the same indifference as yours.
And, I wish to forget the words 우리의 소원은 통일.
It hurts me to death to think of you.

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