Read Online Maninbo by Ko Un - Free Book Online

the
yangban
class,
    understood well how
yangban
worshipped their ancestors.
    They were themselves the robbers
    of the grave sites.
    The robber brothers, Yu Seung-ok and Yu Guk-hyeon,
    were direct descendants from
yangban
    who had been expert at digging up graves.
    By day they had looked most fine,
    their way of clearing their throats had great dignity.
    When a ripe watermelon is cut open
    it is red and dignified.
    The French robbers who in times past
    dug up the grave of Prince Namyeon,
    they must have looked fine too.

A Police Spy
    The Writers’ Council for the Practice of Freedom
    had no office,
    so if the chairman was walking along a street,
    that street was the office,
    the bar where the secretary was sitting was the office.
    It was the second dissident group
    that the Park Jung-hee government decided to eliminate.
    When they got together in a bar
    outwardly it might have looked as if they were enjoying a drink,
    but secretly
    they were discussing a rally or a declaration on the situation
    they planned to issue a few days later.
    Eom Ok-nam
    was sure to appear at every such gathering,
    saying he admired writers with such upright minds.
    At times he would pay for a third round of drinks,
    contribute some
bulgogi
,
    even buy the chairman a new suit.
    That tall Eom Ok-nam with large whites to his eyes
    was a police agent who reported every detail
    to the CIA headquarters on Mount Namsan.
    He only pretended to be a fan of the writers.
    Later it was learned
    he was separated from his wife,
    had been kicked out
    after extorting money from his wife’s family.
    When he went to the bath house
    he would come out four hours later,
    saying:
    ‘Ah, I feel better now.’

Little Ham Seok-heon’s Teacher
    When Ham Seok-heon was a child
    at a village school in Yongdangpo, North Pyeongan province,
    the teacher of the calligraphy class
    took great care of the students,
    stooping over them
    as they wrote one character after another.
    His students also had to learn
    to grind the ink steadily
    and hold the brush firmly.
    He would snatch the brush from an awkward student’s hand.
    Grabbing the boy’s hand from behind, he would say:
    â€˜You little brat,
    how will you make your writing strong
    if you hold your brush as weakly as that?
    â€˜Japanese writing may be pretty,
    but our writing must above all be strong.’

Jeong Jeom’s Grandmother
    Something like a mass of red-bean gruel
    hangs dangling,
    off almost the whole left side of her face.
    It looks as if gruel boiled up
    for some time
    before stopping where it did.
    Seen one way, it is gruel,
    another, a human face.

    Luckily or unluckily,
    the eye and eyebrow on the right side are attractive.
    Notwithstanding,
    during her lifetime
    she had a husband,
    gave birth to sons and daughters,
    and now her grandchildren run away from her.
    Jeong Jeom’s grandmother with her red-bean gruel
    wears double-decker gold rings,
    two, in case one might seem insufficient,
    on her quite swollen finger.
    Not only her face: her finger too is weighed down.

Two Singers
    They never made a hit.
    But though they would never be famous
    they were people who just loved singing,
    regardless of the season, spring or autumn
    Among those singers,
    was a sensible girl.
    who lived near the bank of Wansan stream on Omokdae Hill in Jeonju.
    Having heard of her
    somehow or other,
    a middle-aged singer came to visit
    from Geumgu in Gimje at the foot of Moak Mountain
    His traditional jade-green coat and white rubber slippers were gorgeous.
    Bowing politely, he said:
    ‘I have come to hear your unusual voice.’
    The young girl greeted him just as politely.
    Then the girl and the man
    spread a rush mat on Omokdae Hill,
    brought out drum and fan,
    tested the drum. They worried
    the drum’s leather had grown slack because of the weather
    or its strength been sapped for lack of use.
    ‘I have neither natural talent nor good discipline,’
    said the man,
    ‘so please listen with a generous