초원의 빛이여, 꽃의 영광이여

[김영신(LA)]

운전하는 동안, 느닷없이

초원의 빛이여, 꽃의 영광이여....

(머~엉)..................................

초원의 빛이여, 꽃의 영광이여....

(머~엉)..................................

계속...머~엉

그 담에 뭐였지?

죽어도 기억이 나질 않아 집에 와서 찾아봤습니다. ㅎ

한때 그렇게도 찬란한 빛이었건만

이젠 영원히 눈앞에서 사라져 버리고

다시는 되돌릴 수 없는

초원의 빛이여

꽃의 영광이여

서러워 말지니

차라리 뒤에 남은 것에서 힘을 얻으소서

여태 있었고 또 앞으로도 분명코 있을 그 원시의 공감에서

고통에서 솟아나는 그 위로의 생각 가운데에서

죽음을 뚫어 보는 그 믿음 가운데에서

현명한 마음을 부르는 세월 가운데에서…….

다 아시다시피 나타리 우드와 워렌비티가 나오는

<초원의 빛>이라는 영화에서 나와 더 유명해 졌지만

William Wordsworth의 이 시는

Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood

라는 철학적 頌歌라 할 수 있는 시의 극히 일부분에 불과한 구절이지요.
찾는 김에 詩 전체를 찾아 읽어 봤습니다.

유명한 詩의 번역은 감히 못하겠어서 원문만 실어 봅니다.

끝부분의 청색 글자로 표시된 부분이 나탈리 우드가 교실에서 읽기도 하고

보고있는 사람까지 가슴 저리게 만드는 마지막 장면에서

배경으로 낭송되는 구절입니다.

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;--
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

The rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the rose;
The moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare;
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair;
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
And while the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong.
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep,--
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong:
I hear the echoes through the mountains throng.
The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
And all the earth is gay;
Land and sea
Give themselves up to jollity,
And with the heart of May
Doth every beast keep holiday;--
Thou child of joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
Shepherd-boy!

Ye blesséd Creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My heart is at your festival,
My head hath its coronal,
The fulness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all.
O evil day! if I were sullen
While Earth herself is adorning
This sweet May-morning;
And the children are culling
On every side
In a thousand valleys far and wide
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm:--
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
--But there's a tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have look'd upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting;
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting
And cometh from afar;
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
Must travel, still is Nature's priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.

Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
And, even with something of a mother's mind,
And no unworthy aim,
The homely nurse doth all she can
To make her foster-child, her inmate, Man,
Forget the glories he hath known,
And that imperial palace whence he came.

Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
A six years' darling of a pigmy size!
See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,
Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,
With light upon him from his father's eyes!
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
Some fragment from his dream of human life,
Shaped by himself with newly-learned art;
A wedding or a festival,
A mourning or a funeral;
And this hath now his heart,
And unto this he frames his song:
Then will he fit his tongue
To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
But it will not be long
Ere this be thrown aside,
And with new joy and pride
The little actor cons another part;
Filling from time to time his 'humorous stage'
With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,
That life brings with her in her equipage;
As if his whole vocation
Were endless imitation.

Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thy soul's immensity;
Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep
Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind,
That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,
Haunted for ever by the eternal Mind,--
Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!
On whom those truths rest
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
Thou, over whom thy Immortality
Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave,
A Presence which is not to be put by;
To whom the grave
Is but a lonely bed, without the sense of sight
Of day or the warm light,
A place of thoughts where we in waiting lie;
Thou little child, yet glorious in the might
Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,
And custom lie upon thee with a weight
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
0 joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live,
That Nature yet remembers
What was so fugitive!
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction: not indeed
For that which is most worthy to be blest,
Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:--
--Not for these I raise
The song of thanks and praise;
But for those obstinate questionings
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings from us, vanishings,
Blank misgivings of a creature
Moving about in worlds not realized,
High instincts, before which our mortal nature
Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:
But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections,
Which, be they what they may,
Are yet the fountain-light of all our day,
Are yet a master-light of all our seeing;
Uphold us--cherish--and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,
To perish never;
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
Nor man nor boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Hence, in a season of calm weather
Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither;
Can in a moment travel thither--
And see the children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.

Then, sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound!
We, in thought, will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.

And 0, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquish'd one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway;
I love the brooks which down their channels fret
Even more than when I tripp'd lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born day
Is lovely yet;
The clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

Angel Eyes / Sting

[이동철(부산)]

와 본래 이렇게 긴 시였다는 걸 처음 알았습니다.

[김영신(LA)]

긴 시란 건 알았지만 저도 첨부터 끝까지 다 읽어보기는 처음입니다

[윤개일(VA)]

가끔 자정을 훨씬 지난 밤 이층 Deck 에 홀로 앉아 밤 하늘을 봅니다. 어느때는 둥근 달이 보이기도 하며,
또 어떤대는 몆개의 반짝이는 별을 볼때가 있읍니다. 안피우던 담배 한대 피워 물고 커피를 마시며 생각 해봅니다.
인간은 고독 에 살다가 영원한 동반자 이신 주님을 찾아가기위해 좀더 인내 와 사랑 과 너그러운 마음을 갖게 해달라고 기원 해봅니다.
아름다운 긴 시 올려 주신것 감사 합니다. 건강 하시고 행복 하시길 바랍니다.

[김영신(LA)]

철저하게 고독할 수 있는 용기가 없어
삶이 힘든건지도 모른다는 생각을 가끔합니다.

저는 신의 존재에 대해 회의해서 종교가 없지만
신을 믿는 신앙인들의 경건한 신심만은 참으로 존경합니다.
신이 존재하는지 아닌지 아무도 모르지만
인간의 한계를 인정하고 그 한계 앞에 겸손해지고
그 한계의 초월자를 숭배하는 인간의 신심이 바로
신이 아닐까하는 생각을 합니다. 어떻게 보면
천국이란 죽어서 가는 것이 아니라 바로 이런 인간의
한없이 약한 모습을 품을 수 있는 관용과 사랑의 마음이
끊이지 않을 수 있을 때의 이 땅에서의 영혼의 삶이 바로
천국이 아닐까 하는 생각도 자주 합니다.

[김영신(LA)]

윤선배께서도 건강 유의하시고 행복하시길 바랍니다.
자주 뵈올 수 있기를 바라고요.

[윤길순 (TX)]

한국에서 이 영화를 본 후에 마지막 장면을 많이 더올렸지요.
미국와서 여러번 다시 이 영화를 봤습니다.
<Splendor in the Grass>

[김영신(LA)]

같은 영화를 봐도 사람마다 느낌이 다른 것도 재미있지요?
이 시의 한국번역을 찾아 검색하느라
영화감상평을 한 두개 읽어보다 놀랐어요
윌마 (나타리 우드)가 정신병에 걸린 이유가
질투라고 써 놨더라구요. 에구, 말도 안되지요.
하두 우스꽝스러워서 베끼려고 오늘 다시 찾으니
이번엔 그 글이 안 나타나네요.

[이상진(여주)]

우연이란 참 요상하네요. 영화를 보지 않으니 영화 얘기할 일도 없는데, 어제는 영화 안 보기로는 나와 똑같은
아내와 음악과 감성에 관하여 얘기하다가 영화 '슬픔은 그대 가슴에'의 마지막 장면 얘기를 했고, 말꼬리 잡고
영화 '초원의 빛' 마지막 자막으로 읽었던 시 얘기로 번지고, 다시 워즈워스의 시 얘기까지 했는데---,
뭐 '이심전심'이라고 까지야. 하하하

[김영신(LA)]

전 가끔 이 카페 저 카페 기웃거리다
아, 내가 드디어 미쳤나보다란 생각들 때가 있는데
왜냐하면 서로 전혀 모르는 사람이어야 마땅한 사람들조차
전혀 모르는 곳에서 제 말에 대답을 하는 것 같은 느낌이 들어서요
그래서 정말 '복잡계'라는 학설이 맞을지도 모르겠다는 생각이 들어요
저도 며칠 전에 '슬픔이 그대가슴에'에 대한 이야기를 했는데요?
그리고 제가 이 초원의 빛에 대한 글을 올렸을 때
어느 카페에서 어떤 사람이 느닷없이 이 시 이야기를 같은 시간에 하대요?
미쳐요, 정말 !!