I Sell My Daughter for 100 Won, by Jang Jin-sung (N. Korea)

I am selling my daughter for 100 Won

She was desolate
‘I am selling my daughter for 100 Won.’
With that placard on her neck
with her daughter by her side
the women standing in the market place –

she was mute.
People looked at the daughter being sold
And the mother who was selling.
The people cast their curses at them
but keeping her eyes downcast

she was tearless.
Even when the daughter
wrapped herself
in her mother’s skirt
shouting, screaming
that her mother was dying
the woman kept her lips
tight and trembled –
she did now know how to be grateful.
‘I’m not buying the daughter
I want to buy her motherly love.’
That soldier came by
with a 100 won note in his hand.
The woman who ran off with the money,

She was a mother.
With the money
she got for her daughter
she bought a loaf of bread
and put a chunk of bread
in her daughter’s mouth
as they said goodbye.
‘Forgive me,’ she cried.
She was desolate.

Translated by Shirley Lee

 

Ik verkoop mijn dochter voor 100 won

Uitgeput stond ze, midden op de markt
‘Voor 100 won, ik verkoop mijn dochter’
Zwaar gedecoreerd van droefenis
Een stuk karton had ze om haar nek
Naast haar jonge dochter
Uitgeput stond ze, midden op de markt

Doofstom de moeder
Ze staarde naar de grond, negeerde
het gevloek van alle mensen
die naar haar keken
als de moeder die haar moederschap
verkocht, haar eigen vlees en bloed

Haar tranen droogden op
Hoewel haar dochter, toen ze erachter kwam
dat haar moeder zou sterven aan een dodelijke ziekte,
Haar gezicht in haar moeders lange rok had verborgen
En het uitschreeuwde, en huilde
Maar de moeder stond stil

Haar lippen trilden slechts
Niet in staat om de soldaat te bedanken
die honderd won in haar hand stopte
En zei
“Het is je moederschap
Niet je dochter die ik koop”
Ze pakte het geld
en holde weg

Een moeder was ze,
en de 100 won die ze had aangenomen
besteedde ze aan een volkoren brood
en ze holde naar haar dochter
zo snel als ze kon
En drukte het brood op de lippen van haar kind
“Vergeef me, mijn kind”
Midden op de markt stond ze
en jammerde.

NRC 20 oktober 2018: Van hofdichter tot staatsvijand

 

내딸을 백원에 팝니다.

그는 초췌했다
-내딸을 백원에 팝니다.
그종이를 목에 건 채
어린딸 옆에 세운 채
시장에 서있던 그 여인은

그는 벙어리였다
팔리는 딸애와
팔고 있는 모성을 보며
사람들이 던지는 저주에도
땅바닥만 내려보던 그 여인은

그는 눈물도 없었다
제 엄마가  죽을 병에 걸렸다고
고함치며 울음 터치며
딸애가 치마폭에 안길 때도
입술만 파르르 떨고 있던 그 여인은

그는 감사할 줄도 몰랐다
당신딸이 아니라
모성애를 산다며
한 군인이 백원을 쥐어주자
그 돈 들고 어디론가 뛰어가던 그 여인은

그는 어머니였다
딸을 판 백원으로
밀가루 빵 사들고 어둥지둥 달려와
이별하는 딸애의 입술에 넣어주며
-용서해라! 통곡하던 그 여인은