Chongson Arirang
Will it snow, or will it rain?
Is the rainy season settling in?
On Mansu Mountain the dark clouds gather close.
Arirang, arirang, arariyo.
Let me cross Arirang hill.
Sweetbrier, let it bloom on the long, beautiful sand beach.
Cuckoos, let them sing when March is fully spring.
The cuckoo on South Mountain sings, " Better go home, better go home. "
It laments being far away from home.
Though I am wrapped in a hemp cloth skirt,
you, Mr. High Collar, do not impress me.
Hibiscus, not blooming for thirty-six years,
burst into blossom again at Liberation.
A porcelain bowl breaks in two or three pieces,
but if the Thirty-Eighth breaks, we become one.
If time wants to go, why not go on alone
instead of taking our brief youth?
You teen-aged boys, don't laugh at gray hairs.
It won't be long before yours turn too.
I built a castle of thorns to block gray hairs,
but they arrived before I knew it.
River waters flow and flow, to settle into the sea.
My body that turns round and round, I wonder where it goes.
Your lot and mine are not blessed with blankets and bed,
so let us find the pleasures of a long straw mat.
Green shade, fragrant plants return year after year.
Why does my lover depart and not return?
Solitary gulls turn above Choyang River.
Without my love, my body turns round and round in my room.
South Mountain's mist wraps around its sides.
My lover's arms are bound around my waist.
Seeing the flash of the cigarette, I thought he had returned.
Miserable fireflies! You break my heart.
Good or bad, married life depends on luck.
Do not blame the matchmaker.
Ginseng, deer antlers are no use
for this husband-inflicted illness.
If you think of me as I do of you,
azaleas will bloom in cold December.
The old field across was not planted last year.
It stands unused another year, just like me.
Brother can wait until next year.
Sell the calf and marry me off.
The sun setting over the western hills does not leave because it wants to.
My lover too does not leave because he wishes.
I cried so much at your leaving, in such distress,
Songjong ferry crossing has become a Han River.
Chongson's water mill spins with the stream through the seasons.
My husband does not know how to spin with me.
No rain falling on dry sand,
no sleep in my baby-husband's embrace.
Do you think we don't eat rice and beef because we don't know the taste?
Corn in any season is good enough if we are at peace.
If you don't like an A-frame to go with your hanging belly,
you will be a beggar and nothing more for a hundred years.
Keep this story to yourselves, sisters.
It is I who built the nest hidden in the hemp field.
On Fore South Mountain the woodpeckers drill brand-new holes.
Why can't my useless fool drill in a hole already made?
Kangwon's Kumgang Mountain has twelve thousand peaks
and eight thousand shrines,
but, instead of building a shrine on each peak
and praying there for money,
let us work together and build our own success.
Is the rainy season settling in?
On Mansu Mountain the dark clouds gather close.
Arirang, arirang, arariyo.
Let me cross Arirang hill.
Sweetbrier, let it bloom on the long, beautiful sand beach.
Cuckoos, let them sing when March is fully spring.
The cuckoo on South Mountain sings, " Better go home, better go home. "
It laments being far away from home.
Though I am wrapped in a hemp cloth skirt,
you, Mr. High Collar, do not impress me.
Hibiscus, not blooming for thirty-six years,
burst into blossom again at Liberation.
A porcelain bowl breaks in two or three pieces,
but if the Thirty-Eighth breaks, we become one.
If time wants to go, why not go on alone
instead of taking our brief youth?
You teen-aged boys, don't laugh at gray hairs.
It won't be long before yours turn too.
I built a castle of thorns to block gray hairs,
but they arrived before I knew it.
River waters flow and flow, to settle into the sea.
My body that turns round and round, I wonder where it goes.
Your lot and mine are not blessed with blankets and bed,
so let us find the pleasures of a long straw mat.
Green shade, fragrant plants return year after year.
Why does my lover depart and not return?
Solitary gulls turn above Choyang River.
Without my love, my body turns round and round in my room.
South Mountain's mist wraps around its sides.
My lover's arms are bound around my waist.
Seeing the flash of the cigarette, I thought he had returned.
Miserable fireflies! You break my heart.
Good or bad, married life depends on luck.
Do not blame the matchmaker.
Ginseng, deer antlers are no use
for this husband-inflicted illness.
If you think of me as I do of you,
azaleas will bloom in cold December.
The old field across was not planted last year.
It stands unused another year, just like me.
Brother can wait until next year.
Sell the calf and marry me off.
The sun setting over the western hills does not leave because it wants to.
My lover too does not leave because he wishes.
I cried so much at your leaving, in such distress,
Songjong ferry crossing has become a Han River.
Chongson's water mill spins with the stream through the seasons.
My husband does not know how to spin with me.
No rain falling on dry sand,
no sleep in my baby-husband's embrace.
Do you think we don't eat rice and beef because we don't know the taste?
Corn in any season is good enough if we are at peace.
If you don't like an A-frame to go with your hanging belly,
you will be a beggar and nothing more for a hundred years.
Keep this story to yourselves, sisters.
It is I who built the nest hidden in the hemp field.
On Fore South Mountain the woodpeckers drill brand-new holes.
Why can't my useless fool drill in a hole already made?
Kangwon's Kumgang Mountain has twelve thousand peaks
and eight thousand shrines,
but, instead of building a shrine on each peak
and praying there for money,
let us work together and build our own success.
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