Winter solstice moon

On winter solstice, Koreans eat 팥죽 or red bean porridge, a food tradition that originates from China. By red bean, I mean azuki, since Japanese names are often better known in English. Red bean repels ghosts and other malevolent spirits, so on the longest night of the year, we eat red bean porridge to ward off bad luck. (떡 or rice cake, made with red bean filling or coating, is also traditional fare for events like the hundred days celebration or the first birthday, for the same reason.)

I didn't grow up celebrating winter solstice because my parents, being very Catholic, did not practice what they considered to be superstitions. But in recent years, my mother has started to make 팥죽 for the holiday. Perhaps it marks the transition from superstition to custom.

Winter solstice in Korean is 동지 (冬至); for me, it always evokes the poem by 황진이 (Hwang Jin-i), which starts with the words “동짓달 기난긴 밤을” (roughly, “this long, long night by the winter solstice moon”). I've written about it extensively on a previous blog but the advantage of starting a new one is that I'm free to repeat myself. The poem takes the form of a 시조 (sijo), which is a vernacular form as emblematic to Korean poetry as haiku is to Japanese.¹

First, the poem:

冬至달 기나긴 밤을 한 허리를 버혀내여
春風 니불 아레 서리서리 넣었다가
어론 님 오신 날 밤이여든 구비구비 펴리라

When written completely in 한글 (hangeul)²:

동짓달 기나긴 밤을 한 허리를 버혀내여
춘풍 니불 아레 서리서리 넣었다가
어론 님 오신 날 밤이여든 구비구비 펴리라

I took a course on Asian poetry during second semester of my senior undergraduate year, under Prof. David McCann, who has done a lot of work to popularize the sijo form in English. At the same time, a Korean drama about the life of Hwang Jin-i aired, starring one of my favorite actors, 하지원 (Ha Ji-won), in the eponymous role. This confluence of circumstances meant that I spent some time memorizing the poem and studying as many available English translations of it as possible.

Translation by Richard Rutt:

I will break in two the long strong back
        of this long midwinter night,
Roll it up and put it away
        under the springtime coverlet.
And the night that my loved one comes back again
        I will unroll it to lengthen the time.

Translation by Peter Lee:

I cut in two
A long November night, and
Place half under the coverlet,
Sweet-scented as a spring breeze.
And when he comes, I shall take it out,
Unroll it inch by inch, to stretch the night.

Translation by Chung Chong-hwa:

I wish I could cut out the waist of this deep mid-winter night
And curl it softly, softly under the spring quilt,
And then slowly, slowly spread it on the night my love comes back.

Translation by David Bannon:

I will divide this long November night
    and coil by coil
    lay it under a warm spring blanket
    and roll by roll
when my frozen love returns
    I will unfold it to the night.

Translation by David McCann:

I will break the back of this long, midwinter night,
Folding it double, cold beneath my spring quilt,
That I may draw out the night, should my love return.

(I'll add to this post if I come across other attributed translations.)

It is a love poem; part of the melancholy comes from the poet's uncertainty if the lover will return. 어론 means “beloved” but also sounds like “frozen”: perhaps the lover is cold on this winter night, but perhaps his love has grown cold as well. Yet the poet still hopes for reunion in the spring. Interestingly, none of the translations I've seen so far chooses to use the word solstice, although part of the imagery of the poem hinges on it being the longest night of the year. “Would that I could save the nighttime now, to lengthen our night together when we meet again.”

Anyway, to put it more succinctly: 동지팥죽 먹을 때마다 이별을 생각한다. (Whenever I eat red bean porridge on winter solstice, I think of separation.)