Vasko Popa (조영필 역)
게임 사이에
아무도 쉬고 있지 않네
이 사람은 계속 그의 눈을 움직거리네
그것을 그의 어깨에 얹는다
그리고 싫든 좋든 뒤로 간다
그것을 그의 발의 바닥에 놓는다
그리고 다시 싫든 좋든 거꾸로 돌아온다
이 사람은 자신을 완전히 어떤 귀로 변신하였네
그래서 들을 수 없는 모든 것을 들었다
그러나 너무 많이 들었다
그래서 그 자신으로 다시 변신하고 싶어 몸이 쑤신다
그러나 눈이 없이 그는 어떻게 할지를 볼 수가 없다
그리고 저 사람은 그의 모든 얼굴들을 노출시켰네
그리고 그것들을 차례차례 지붕너머로 던진다
최후의 것은 발아래로 던진다
그리고 그의 머리를 그의 손에 묻는다
그리고 이 사람은 그의 모습을 펼쳤다
그것을 엄지에서 엄지로 펼쳤다
그리고 그것을 따라 걷고 있다 걸으면서
처음에는 천천히 나중에는 더 빨리
그리고 더 빠르게 그리고 더 빠르게
그리고 저 사람은 그의 머리를 가지고 놀고 있다
그것을 공중으로 던진다
그리고 그의 검지로 그것을 잡는다
또는 그것을 전혀 잡지 않는다
아무도 쉬고 있지 않네
Between games
No one is resting
This one keeps moving his eyes about
Puts them on his shoulders
And willy nilly goes backwards
Puts them on the soles of his feet
And again willy nilly comes back headlong
And this one has turned himself altogether into an ear
And heard everything that can't be heard
But he's had enough
And is aching to turn back into himself
But without eyes he can't see how
And that one has uncovered all his faces
And is chasing them one after the other over the roofs
The last he throws underfoot
And buries his head in his hands
And this one has stretched out his look
Stretched it from thumb to thumb
And is walking along it walking
At first slowly afterwards more quickly
And quicker and quicker
And that one is playing with his head
Tosses it up into the air
And catches it on his forefinger
Or doesn't catch it at all
No one is resting
(Vasko Popa Selected Poems, translated by Anne Pennington, Penguin Books, 1969)
Between games
Nobody rests
This one constantly shifts his eyes
Hangs them on his head
And whether he wants it or not starts walking backwards
He Puts them on the soles of his feet
And whether he wants it or not returns walking on his head
This one turns into an ear
He hears all that won't let itself be heard
But he grows bored
Yearns to turn again into himself
But without eyes he can't see how
That one bares all his faces
One after the other he throws them over the roof
The last one he throws under his feet
And sinks his head into his hands
This one stretches his sight
Stretches it from thumb to thumb
Walks over it walks
First slow then fast
Then faster and faster
That one plays with his head
Juggles it in the air
Meets it with his index finger
Or doesn't meet it at all
Nobody rests
(Homage to the lame wolf, translated by Charles Simic, Oberlin College Press, 1987)