Several years ago, some older journalists protested a bit with education authorities when they belatedly found that the state-endorsed high-school Korean language textbook no longer contained the Korean translation of German poet Anton Schnack’s “Things That Make Us Sad.” People who went to high school in the 1950s-70s were so impressed by the early 20th-century prose poem that they tried to have it reincluded in the textbook, albeit unsuccessfully.
The popularity here of the German writing that so sensitively picked up samples of life in the shady side was not unrelated to the dark social atmosphere in Korea at that time. Moreover, readers were fascinated by the beautiful Korean that the translator used in conveying the images created in a foreign language. The translator happened to be the respected professor Kim Jin-seop who taught at Seoul National University before he was abducted to the North during the Korean War.
The appeal was not accepted by textbook compilers, who explained: Anton Schnack was among German writers who pledged allegiance to Hitler in the early days of the Nazi rule; and a translated work of the past generation needs to concede its place in the Korean language textbook to original contemporary Korean writing.
“The sight of a crying child makes us feel sad. When the early autumn sun sheds its warm light on the carcass of a little bird in a corner of the garden, the moment makes us sad by and large …” (Forgive my unimaginative English translation from Kim Jin-seop’s Korean version.) Poet-journalist Schnack goes on, sadly observing graffiti on the crumbling walls of an old castle, a tiger listlessly pacing around in the pen of a zoo, its sparkling eyes in deep anger, painful roaring and despair.
The epitaph at the tomb of a girl who died age 15, the hoarse ticking of an old clock in an inn of a strange village, an empty field after harvest, a drunken woman and the audacious red houses that occupy the site of the old playground “make us sad.” A funeral procession in May, or June, tears of a poor old woman, an arrogant man, violet, black, gray colors, the G-string of the violin, the clown who fell from the tight-rope for the third time, the last day of vacation, and again, the sight of a hungry child ― these “made us sad.”
Following the sights that evoked sadness in the heart of the poet, readers realize the purity of the writer’s mind during the turbulent time in Europe between the two world wars. Nearly a century afterward, life may involve as much sadness, but the sources of our unhappiness this summer are so grave and ruthless that we are envious of Schnack struggling over such trifling, rather romantic things.
As in the old days, children suffer while adults fight. In Gaza Strip, they are dying by the hundreds under fire from the Israeli Army. We are aggrieved at the photos of wailing Palestinian parents holding the bloody bodies of their children in their arms. What made me even sadder was the video of U.N. Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon reading a statement denouncing the Israeli attack, in all helplessness.
Couldn’t the Korean U.N. chief hire a motor boat from Lebanon or Egypt, sail directly into the Palestinian territory, through an Israeli blockade, and stage a sit-in at one of the U.N. schools, which of late have become major targets of the Israeli artillery shelling? Some of his compatriots named Ban a potential presidential candidate for the 2016 election, but his virtual inaction these days in the face of worst inhumanity reduced his stature as an apostle of peace on the world stage and as a future leader of this nation prone to security crisis).
From TV screens, newspaper pages and SNS messages, we have new additions to the “sadness” list on a daily and hourly basis. The departure of Hong Myung-bo as the manager of the national soccer squad after its winless World Cup outing last month was saddening, as were the exits of Kim Han-gil, Ahn Cheol-soo and Sohn Hak-kyu after their party’s “humiliating 4-11 defeat” in the July 30 by-elections. We may expect their return some years later or never.
Kim Moo-sung, chair of the victorious Saenuri Party, has something else to celebrate, as the latest opinion poll put him in the lead among presidential hopefuls for 2016. Yet his poor temper during a “consultation” session with military leaders over the pressing issue of human rights abuses in the barracks saddened many TV watchers. If the defense minister who took office in June is to be censured for the beating to death of a soldier a couple of months earlier, the entire government leadership, including the stewards of the ruling party, cannot escape responsibility.
Korean politics has proven that audacity and arrogance are the worst hazards in the race for power, but this seems one of the hardest things for our politicians to learn. Another frontrunner, Park Won-soon, who was reelected Seoul mayor last June, looks caught by the common malady as he toughened his stance over the heady issue of Guryong Village. Passing by the last remaining shanty town in Gangnam, one feels sad to note the result of the liberal mayor’s taking more sympathy with the illegal squatters than with the landowners who were unable to exercise their rights over the past three decades.
Another very high source of our sadness. The tearful President Park vowed to overhaul the Cabinet and the whole public safety system to ensure no recurrence of disasters like the Sewol ferry sinking. But the prime minister was retained because no replacement was available after two nomination failures, and no practical steps have yet been taken to make our roads, seas and skies safer.
Meanwhile, a small change has been noted. In Cabinet sessions, few participants are now seen jotting down the president’s remarks and instructions. The stoic classroom mode in the Blue House was something quite opposite of the creative atmosphere that the president vowed to promote in her administration.
After decades, the appealing title of the translated literature in the textbook still prompts us to collect things that make us sad, and we never have had hardship to replenish the list of gloom.
By Kim Myong-sik
Kim Myong-sik is a former editorial writer for The Korea Herald. ― Ed.
