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»ç¶û°ú Àá : Âû½º ½ºÀ©¹ø ½Ã¼±

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Âû½º ½ºÀ©¹ø
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±Û°ú±Û»çÀÌ
ÃâÆÇÀÏ
2017-11-22
µî·ÏÀÏ
2018-01-03
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¡°ºòÅ丮¾ÆÁ¶ÀÇ ¹ÝÇ×¾Æ\n¼¼±â¸»ÀÇ ÅðÆóÁÖÀÇ ½ÃÀÎ\n¾ÙÀú³Í Âû½º ½ºÀ©¹ø¡±\n\n\n\n»ç¶û°ú Àá(Love and Sleep)\n\n\n´©¿ö ÀÖ´Ù°¡ ¹ãÀÇ ¼Õ±æ¿¡ Àáµç ³ª´Â\n ³ªÀÇ ½½Ç ħ´ë¿¡ ±â´ë´Â ÀÓÀ» º¸¾Ò´Ù,\n ¾Æ·ÃÇÑ ¹éÇÕ ²ÉÀ٠ȤÀº ²É ¸Ó¸®Ã³·³ ¿¯°í,\nº¸µéº¸µé È帴ÇÑ »ì°á, ±ú¹°°íÇ ¸Ç ¸ñ´ú¹Ì,\nºÓ¾îÁö±â¿£ ³Ê¹« Æĸ®ÇÏ°í â¹éÇØÁö±â¿£ ³Ê¹« µûµíÇØ\n ÈñÁöµµ ºÓÁöµµ ¾ÊÀº ¿Ïº®ÇÑ ¾È»öÀ̾ú´Ù.\n ¸¶Ä§³» ÀÓÀÇ ÀÔ¼úÀÌ ¿ä¿°ÇÏ°Ô ¿­¸®¸ç, ¸»Çß´Ù?\nÀú´Â ¾Æ¹«°Íµµ ¸ô¶ó¿ä, ÇÑ ´Ü¾î?±â»Ý ¸»°í´Â.\n\nÇÏ¿© ÀÓÀÇ ¾ó±¼Àº ¿ÂÅë ³» ÀÔ¿¡ ²ÜÀ̾ú°í,\n ÀÓÀÇ ¸öÀº ¿ÂÅë ³» ´«¿¡ ¸ñÃÊÁö¿´´Ù.\n ±æ°í ³ª±ßÇÑ ÆÈ°ú ºÒ²Éº¸´Ù ¶ß°Å¿î ¼Õ,\n¹Ùµé°Å¸®´Â ¿·±¸¸® »ì, ³²Ç³ ³» ³ª´Â ¸Ó¸®Ä®,\n ¹à°í ¿¬ÇÑ ¹ß, ´«ºÎ½Å °î¼±ÀÇ Çã¹÷Áö,\n ³» ¿µÈ¥ÀÇ ¿å¸ÁÀÌ ¹è¾î ¹Ý¦ÀÌ´Â ´«²¨Ç®µµ.\n\n\nLying asleep between the strokes of night\n I saw my love lean over my sad bed,\n Pale as the duskiest lily¡¯s leaf or head,\nSmooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite,\nToo wan for blushing and too warm for white,\n But perfect-coloured without white or red.\n And her lips opened amorously, and said¡ª?I wist not what, saving one word¡ªDelight.\n\nAnd all her face was honey to my mouth,\n And all her body pasture to mine eyes;\n The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire,\nThe quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south,\n The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs\n And glittering eyelids of my soul¡¯s desire.\n\n\n\n°í¾çÀÌ¿¡°Ô(To a Cat) ÀϺΠ\n\n\n°³µéÀº ´Ù°¡¿Ã ¶§¸é Çϳª°°ÀÌ\n ¾Æ¾çÀ» ¶³Áö¸¸,\n³Ê´Â, ÇÑ°á °í°áÇÑ ¸¶À½ÀÇ ¹þÀ¸·Î,\n°°Àº ±âÁúÀÇ ¹þµé¿¡°Ô¸¸ È­´äÇÏÁö.\n±×³É ³× ¹ßÀ» ³» ¼Õ¿¡ ³õ´Â °ÍÀ¸·Î\n»ì¸ç½Ã ÀÌÇØÇÑ´Ù°í ¸»Çϴ±¸³ª.\n\n¾Æħ ÇÞ»ìÀÌ ÀÌ °í¿äÇÏ°í Çâ±ßÇÑ\n Á¤¿ø-º¥Ä¡¿¡ µÎ·ç\nÁ¡Á¡ ȯÇØÁö´Â ºûÀ» dz¼ºÈ÷ ºñÃß°í,\n´Ã¾î³ª´Â ±¸¸§µéÀ» °­·ÂÈ÷ µÚÈçµé°í,\n»ï¸², °ú¼ö¿ø, È÷½º ¹ç, Àܵð¹ç°ú\nÀú ¾Æ·¡ Á¤¿ø±îÁö ´Ù ¹Ù²Ù¾î³õ´Â±¸³ª.\n\n\nDogs may fawn on all and some\n As they come;\nYou, a friend of loftier mind,\nAnswer friends alone in kind.\nJust your foot upon my hand\nSoftly bids it understand.\n\nMorning round this silent sweet\n Garden-seat\nSheds its wealth of gathering light,\nThrills the gradual clouds with might,\nChanges woodland, orchard, heath,\nLawn, and garden there beneath.\n\n\n\n¿ì¸®´Â ±×´ë¸¦ º¸¾Ò´Ù, ¿À »ç¶ûÀÌ¿©(We Have Seen Thee, O Love) ÀϺÎ\n\n\n¿Ö ±×´ë´Â ±â¾îÀÌ Å¾¾ß Çß³ª,\n ¾î¸Ó´Ï¿©, ¹Ù¶÷µµ Àä´Âµ¥,\nº½Ã¶ÀÇ ¹Ð²É °°ÀÌ,\n ¹Ù´ÙÀÇ °ÅÇ°²É °°ÀÌ ÇǾî¾ß Çß³ª?\n±×´ë´Â ž ¶§ºÎÅÍ ±«·Î¿ü±â¿¡,\n ¾ÆÇÁ·ÎµðÅ×, ÅõÀïÀÇ ¾î¸Ó´Ï¿©,\n±×´ë ÀÌÀüÀÇ ´ëÁö´Â ±×³ª¸¶ Æí¾ÈÇ߱⿡,\n Àá½Ã³ª¸¶ ´«¹° ¾ø´Â ÈÞ½Ä,\n ÀÛ°Ô³ª¸¶ »îÀÇ ±â»ÝÀÌ ÀÖ¾ú±â¿¡,\n±×´ë°¡ ÀÖ°íºÎÅÍ »îÀÌ ´Þ¶óÁ³±â¿¡,\n ¼¼¿ù µû¶ó ºñ´ëÇØÁö´Â »ç¶÷,\n »ó³ÉÇÑ ¸»¾¾ÀÇ ÀÚ½Ä ¸¹Àº ºÎ³àÀÚó·³,\n ´ëÁö¿£ °¡½Ã°¡ ¾ø°í, ¿å¸Á¿£\nµ¶±â°¡ ¾ø°í, Á×À½¿¡µµ »ì±â°¡ ¾ø¾ú´Âµ¥,\n ¿Ö ±×´ë´Â ±â¾îÀÌ ÀÌ Æ´¿¡ ³¢¾î¾ß Çß³ª,\n Ÿ´Â ºÒ¿ÊÀ» ÀÔÀº ±×´ë,\n°¡½¿ÀÇ ½½ÇÄÀ¸·Î µÑ·¯½ÎÀÎ ±×´ë,\n ¹Ù´ÙÀÇ ¾¾¾Ñ¿¡¼­ ¼Ú¾Æ³­ ±×´ë¿©,\n¹ÐÀÇ ¾¾¿¡¼­ ³ª¿À´Â ÀÌ»èó·³,\n ÀåÀÛ´õ¹Ì¿¡¼­ ³¬¾Ææ ȶºÒó·³,\n¾Æħ ÇØ¿¡¼­ Èð»Ñ·ÁÁø ÇÞ»ìó·³ »ý°Ü³ª,\n ¾îÀÌÇÏ¿© Á¤¿­°ú º´Æó¸¦ °¥¶ó³õ°í,\n»ì±â¿Í µ¶±â¿Í °¡½Ã¸¦ µ¸¾Æ³ª°Ô ÇÏ¿´³ª?\n¹«¾ùÀÌ ±×´ë¸¦ ±«·ÓÇô¼­ ž³ª?\n\n\nWhat hadst thou to do being born,\n Mother, when winds were at ease,\nAs a flower of the springtime of corn,\n A flower of the foam of the seas?\nFor bitter thou wast from thy birth,\n Aphrodite, a mother of strife;\nFor before thee some rest was on earth,\n A little respite from tears,\n A little pleasure of life;\nFor life was not then as thou art,\n But as one that waxeth in years\n Sweet-spoken, a fruitful wife;\n Earth had no thorn, and desire\nNo sting, neither death any dart;\n What hadst thou to do amongst these,\n Thou, clothed with a burning fire,\nThou, girt with sorrow of heart,\n Thou, sprung of the seed of the seas\nAs an ear from a seed of corn,\n As a brand plucked forth of a pyre,\nAs a ray shed forth of the morn,\n For division of soul and disease,\nFor a dart and a sting and a thorn?\nWhat ailed thee then to be born?\n\n\n\n·¹½ºº¸½ºÀÇ ¿©Àεé(Sapphics) ÀϺÎ\n\n\n³¯¾Æ¿À¸£´Â ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ º¸ÀÌ´Â ³ë·¡, ¿ÏÀüÇÑ ¼Ò¸®¿Í\n³ÑÄ¡´Â ¿­Á¤À¸·Î Áö¾î¼­, °ö°Ô ´Ùµë°í,\n¼¶¶àÇÑ ÃµµÕ¼Ò¸®¸¦ °¡µæ ´ã¾Æ, ¹Ù¶÷ ³¯°³¿ÊÀ» ÀÔÈù\n ±âÀû °°Àº ±× ³ë·¡¸¦ ¹Ù¶óºÃÀ» »ÓÀÌ´Ù.\n\n¸¶Ä§³» ±×³à°¡ »ç¶û½º·¹ ¿ôÀ¸¸ç, ±â»Ý¿¡ Á¥¾î¼­,\nÀå¹Ì²ÉÀ», Àå¾öÇÏ°í °Å·èÇÑ Àå¹Ì²ÉÀ» Èð»Ñ·È´Ù.\n±×·¯ÀÚ »ç¶ûµéÀº ¾Öó·Ó°Ô ¾ó±¼À» °¨Ãß°í¼­\n ¾ÆÇÁ·ÎµðÅ׿¡°Ô ¸ô·Áµé°í,\n\n¹ÂÁîµéÀº, °¡½¿¿¡ »óó¸¦ ÀÔ°í¼­, ħ¹¬ÇÏ¿´´Ù.\n½Ç·Î, ½ÅµéÀÌ Ã¢¹éÇØÁú ¸¸Å­, ´ë´ÜÇÑ ³ë·¡¿´´Ù.\n¸ðµÎ°¡ ¸¶Áö¸øÇØ Çϸ鼭µµ, ¹¦ÇÑ ¹Ý°¨¿¡\n ±×³à¸¦ ¾Õ¿¡ µÎ°í ´Þ¾Æ³ª¹ö·È´Ù.\n\n\nNewly fledged, her visible song, a marvel, \nMade of perfect sound and exceeding passion, \nSweetly shapen, terrible, full of thunders, \n Clothed with the wind\'s wings. \n\nThen rejoiced she, laughing with love, and scattered \nRoses, awful roses of holy blossom; \nThen the Loves thronged sadly with hidden faces \n Round Aphrodite, \n\nThen the Muses, stricken at heart, were silent; \nYea, the gods waxed pale; such a song was that song. \nAll reluctant, all with a fresh repulsion, \n Fled from before her. \n\n\n\n¾È³çÈ÷ Àß °¡½Ã¿À(Ave Atque Vale ? In Memory Of Charles Baudelaire) ÀϺÎ\n\n\nÀÚ¿À, »îÀÌ ´ç½Å¿¡°Ô ±«·Î¿ü´Ù¸é, ¿ë¼­ÇÏ°í,\n Áñ°Å¿ü´Ù¸é, °¨»çÇÏ¿À. ´ç½ÅÀº ´õ´Â »ìÁö ¸øÇÒ Å×´Ï,\n °¨»çÇÏ°í, ¿ë¼­ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ ÁÁ°ÚÁö¿ä.\n¿ÂÁ¾ÀÏ ´ç½ÅÀÇ ¼ÕÀ¸·Î ºñ¹Ð°ú À½ÁöÀÇ º´µç ²Éµé,\n ½½ÇÄ°ú ÁËÀÇ Çª¸¥ ½Ïµé°ú, Àíºû ÀÚÅõ¸®µé,\n ´Ü³» dz±â¸ç, µ¶±â¿¡ Æĸ®ÇÑ ¾ó±¼, »ì¹úÇÑ °¡½¿À¸·Î,\nÀÚ´Ù°¡ »ý°Ü³­ ¿­Á¤µé°ú ±â°ÌÇÏ°Ô ¸¸µå´Â »ý°¢µéÀ»\n º¸¶÷ ¾øÀÌ ¿«¾î ®´ø ±× ºÒ°¡»çÀÇÇÏ°í À½»êÇÑ\n Á¤¿ø¿¡¼­ ºüÁ®³ª¿À¸é, Á×À½ÀÌ\n´ç½Å¿¡°Ô ±×·¨µíÀÌ ¾î´À ³¯ ¿ì¸® ¸ðµÎ¸¦\n Áö³­³¯µé·Î µ¥·Á´Ù ÁÖÁö ¾Ê°Ú¾î¿ä?\n\n\nSleep; and if life was bitter to thee, pardon,\n If sweet, give thanks; thou hast no more to live;\n And to give thanks is good, and to forgive.\nOut of the mystic and the mournful garden\n Where all day through thine hands in barren braid\n Wove the sick flowers of secrecy and shade,\nGreen buds of sorrow and sin, and remnants grey,\n Sweet?smelling, pale with poison, sanguine?hearted,\n Passions that sprang from sleep and thoughts that started,\nShall death not bring us all as thee one day\n Among the days departed?\n\n\n\n½ºÀ©¹øÀº ¶ÇÇÑ ¶ó¿îµé(Roundel)À̶ó´Â ½ÃÇüÀ» °í¾ÈÇÑ Á¤±³ÇÑ ¿¹¼ú°¡¿´´Ù. ¶ó¿îµéÀº ÇÁ¶û½ºÀÇ Á¤Çü½ÃÇü ·Ðµµ(Rondeau)ÀÇ ÇÑ º¯ÇüÀ¸·Î, 1883³â¿¡ Ãâ°£µÈ ¡¶¹é ÆíÀÇ ¶ó¿îµé¡·(A Century of Roundels)¿¡¼­ Å©¸®½ºÆ¼³ª ·ÎÁ¦Æ¼¿¡°Ô ÇåÁ¤ÇÑ ½ÃµéÀÌ Æ÷ÇԵǾîÀÖ´Ù. ½ºÀ©¹øÀº ÀÌ ½ÃÁýÀÇ ¿ø°í¸¦ ¿Ï¼ºÇÏ°í ¶óÆÄ¿¤ÀüÆÄÀÇ È­°¡ Ä£±¸ ¹ø-Á¸½º¿¡°Ô º¸³½ ÇÑ ÆíÁö¿¡¼­, ¡°½Ã ȤÀº ´Ü½Ã·Î ±¸¼ºµÈ ÀÛÀº ½ÃÁýÀ» »õ·Î ½è³×. ¸ðµÎ ÇÑ °¡Áö Çü½Ä, °°Àº ¿îÀ²·Î ½èÁö. . . °ð ³ª¿Ã ÅÙµ¥, ·ÎÁ¦Æ¼ ¾çÀÌ Çå»ç¸¦ ½áÁÖ±â·Î Çß´Ù³×. ¹é ÆíÀÇ ½Ã¸¦ ¸ðµÎ 11ÇàÀ¸·Î ½è´Âµ¥, ±×Áß ½º¹°³× ÆíÀÌ ¾Æ±âµé ¶Ç´Â ¾î¸°¾ÆÀ̵鿡 ´ëÇÑ ÀÛÇ°µéÀÌÁö. ÀÚ³×¿Í Á¶Áö[¹ø-Á¸½ºÀÇ ¾Æ³»(Georgiana)]ÀÇ ¸¶À½¿¡µµ µå´Â ½Ã°¡ ÀÖÀ» °É¼¼¡±¶ó°í ½è´Ù. ÀÌ ÆíÁö ³»¿ëÀº ÀÚ½ÅÀÌ Ã¢¾ÈÇÑ ¶ó¿îµé¿¡ °üÇÑ ¼³¸íÀ̾ú´Ù. ÀÌ ½ÃÁý¿¡ ´ëÇؼ­´Â ¸ÅȤÀûÀÌ°í Àç±â°¡ ³ÑÄ£´Ù´Â ¹ÝÀÀ°ú ¼Ø¾¾´Â ÁÁÀ¸³ª ºÎÀÚ¿¬½º·´´Ù´Â °ßÇØ°¡ ÆØÆØÈ÷ ¸Â¼¹´Ù. ÀÌ ½ÃÁý¿¡ ¼ö·ÏµÈ <ÇÑ ¾Æ±âÀÇ Á×À½>(A Baby\'s Death)Àº ¿µ±¹ÀÇ ÀÛ°î°¡ ¿¡µå¿öµå ¿¤°¡ °æ(Sir Edward Elgar, 1857-1934)¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ³ë·¡(Roundel: The Little Eyes That Never Knew Light)·Î ¸¸µé¾îÁ³´Ù.\n \n- ¿Å°Ü ¿«ÀºÀÌÀÇ <Âû½º ½ºÀ©¹øÀÇ »î°ú ¹®ÇÐ À̾߱â> Áß¿¡¼­

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