Though not part of the OST, the art song ‘Bimok’ (비목) features repeatedly in Snowdrop, including in the opening sequence: as the camera pans past the girls’ dorm rooms, we see Hye-ryeong practicing the song. She later sings it for the hostages and their captors in EP09, moving Eung-cheol to tears. This is also the song that plays on the radio to let the North Korean operatives know their orders have changed. It’s a song about a nameless youth who died before his time, having given his life for his country, and so speaks to characters on both sides of the North/South divide.
The song’s title is written with the hanja 碑木, referring to a wooden grave marker. It was originally a poem, written by Han Myeong-hui, which was then set to music by Jang Il-nam in 1969. Han Myeong-hui was apparently inspired to write the poem when she came across the cairn of an unknown soldier, marked by only a plain wooden cross, near Mt. Baekam. Thereafter, a Bimok Park was erected in Hwacheon, near Mt. Baekam, to honour the unnamed soldiers who died in the Korean War (1950-1953); the Bimok Cultural Festival is held every year around Memorial Day.
In the context of Snowdrop, the song could equally apply to the generation of young people who fought and died in the Korean War, the generation of student activists who risked imprisonment, death, and torture in order to bring about a true democracy, and to operatives like Soo-ho and his men who pledge their lives to their country knowing they, too, might one day lie in an unmarked grave.
Composition: Jang Il-nam | Lyrics: Han Myeong-hui
초연(硝煙)이 쓸고간 깊은 계곡
choyeon-i sseulgogan kipeun gyegok
Deep valley that gunpowder swept away
(deep valley that gunpowder swept away)
깊은 계곡 양지녘에
kipeun gyegok yangjinyeog-e
Deep valley in the glow of eventide
(deep valley in the gloaming)
비바람 긴 세월로 이름모를
bibaram gin sewol-lo ireum-moreul
Oh wooden grave marker of name unknown
(name unknowable through wind and rain, long years)
이름모를 비목이여
ireum-moreul bimok-iyeo
Made illegible by wind, rain and time
(oh wooden grave marker of name unknowable)
먼 고향 초동(樵童) 친구
meon gohyang chodong chingu
Distant hometown, woodcutter lad
(distant hometown, child-woodcutter friend)
두고 온 하늘가 그리워
dugo on haneul-ga geuriweo
I long for the sky I left behind
(the sky left behind is longed for)
마디 마디 이끼 되어 맺혔네
madi madi ikki doe’eo maechyeonne
Bough by bough turned to moss and bloomed
(bough by bough became moss and formed)
궁노루 산울림 달빛 타고
gungnoru sanullim dalbit tago
The cry of a musk deer echoes in the mountains,
(musk deer mountain echo rides moonlight)
달빛 타고 흐르는 밤
dalbit tago heureuneun bam
Riding moonlight, the night seeps in
(flowing night riding moonlight)
홀로 선 적막감에 울어지친
hollo seon jeokmakkam-e ureojichin
Oh, wooden grave marker that stands alone,
(standing alone weary with weeping from desolation)
울어지친 비목이여
ureojichin bimok-iyeo
Weary with weeping of forlornness
(oh wooden grave marker weary with weeping)
그 옛날 천진스런 추억은 애달퍼
geu yetnal chinjinseureon chuoeg-eun aedalpeo
That memory of long-ago innocence rends the chest
(that long-ago innocent memory is heartrending)
서러움 알알이 돌이 되어 쌓였네
seoreoum alali dol-i doe-eo ssahyeonne
Piece by piece, sorrow turned to stone and piled high
(sorrow lump by lump became stone and piled up)
Notes on the translation:
- I say the word bimok ‘refers’ to a wooden grave marker because you won’t find it in any official dictionary; it was coined by Han Myeong-hui when she titled the poem. Normally, a grave marker would be ‘biseok’ (碑石) where ‘seok’ means ‘stone.’ She replaced the second character with ‘mok’ (木), meaning ‘wood’ because the grave was marked by nothing but a wooden cross [참고].
- The image posted above is from EP04, when Soo-ho and Gyeok-chan go to pay their respects at Geum-cheol’s grave. Each of the wooden markers is inscribed ‘mumyeong-in’ (무명인・無名人), meaning ‘unnamed person.’
- I attempted to preserve some of the poeticism of the original Korean while remaining faithful to the content, but I’ve included a more literal translation below to provide some sense of how the language is actually behaving (in case anyone’s curious).
- For instance, lines 1&2 (kipeun gyegok), 3&4 (ireum-moreul), 8&9 (dalbit tago), 10&11 (ureojichin) make use of chiasmus, meaning the end of the first line is echoed at the start of the second. However, in the interest of preserving something resembling poetic meter, I haven’t attempted to replicate that in English–in part due to the SOV/SVO difference.
- Han Myeong-hui also does something really lovely with the imagery in lines 7 and 13. In line 7, what I’ve translated as ‘bough by bough’ (마디 마디) could equally refer to the poet’s longing for the sky of her hometown (‘pang by pang’), the kindling the woodcutter lad once gathered, or perhaps even the boughs used in the makeshift cross that stands over the grave. Likewise, in line 13, she describes the weight of sorrow as accumulating ‘piece by piece’ (알알이). The word she uses here is used to count small round things, like grains of sand, eggs, or stones heaped upon a grave.
All source materials belong to the parties to which they are licensed. All translations are our own.