Classic Poem

On the third day of my marriage,
My in-laws asked me to weed a field
With a hoe made of wood.
When I reached the field,
It was hot as fire, and
The field was long as a ridgeline.
But I weeded three furrows.
When lunchtime came,
Everyone's lunch was brought.
But no one brought mine for me.
When I entered my so-called home
And stood before the big gate,
My father-in-law asked,
“Daughter-in-law, daughter-in-law,
How many furrows have you weeded?”
“On a day hot as fire,
I've weeded three furrows
Of a long and stony field.
Everyone's lunch was brought
Except for mine.”
“You wretched woman, get out!
You call that work
And ask for a meal?”
When I reached the middle of the courtyard.
My husband's younger brother asked,
“Aunt, aunt, how many furrows did you weed?”
“On a day hot as fire,
I've weeded three furrows
Of an arid and stony field.
But no one brought me lunch.”
“You wretched woman, you call that work
And ask for lunch when lunchtime comes?”
When I stepped up from the courtyard,
My sister-in-law asked,
“Sister-in-law, sister-in-law,
How many furrows have you weeded?”
“I've weeded three furrows
Of a long and stony field,
But no one brought me lunch.”
“You wretched woman, go away,
You call that work and ask
For lunch when lunchtime comes?”
When I entered the kitchen,
My mother-in-law, holding a rice paddle, asked,
“Daughter-in-law, daughter-in-law,
How many furrows have you weeded?”
“On a day hot as fire,
I've weeded three furrows
Of a long and stony field.
Everyone else's lunch was brought,
But no one brought mine.”
“Wretched woman, you call that work
And ask for lunch when time comes!”
What they gave me to eat was
Year-old boiled barley
With a year-old soy sauce.
What they called a spoon was
A spade for scooping dung
At Scholar Chong's house.
Even that she did not just give
But threw it at me, and I ran to pick it up
And ate what you call a “meal.”
An old woman in the neighborhood
Came to the kitchen and said,
“The world under heaven is earth,
So is earth in the underworld.
Have you really no place to live
Except for this household?”
I filled the crock with water
And told my mother-in-law:
“Mom, I am leaving,
I'm going to a temple.”
“Hey, wretch! Go if you want.
My son can live without you.”
I approached the male quarters
And told my father-in-law:
“I'm leaving, Dad,
I'm going to a temple.”
“Hey, wretch! Go if you want;
My son can live without you.”
I went to my room and opened
The chest made of beech wood,
Cut a piece from my eight-strip skirt
To fashion a peaked monk's hat,
Used the rest for a pair of trousers and blouse.
Donning the peaked hat and,
Carrying a knapsack on my back,
I went out into the courtyard:
“Listen, listen, father-in-law. Listen,
I'm going to a temple.
Listen, mother-in-law, too,
I'm going to a temple.
Sister-in-law, listen,
I'm going to a temple.
If your brother returns from Seoul,
Tell him I went to a temple.”
So somehow I bid them farewell
And climbed to a temple with twelve gates.
I approached the first gate
And opened the door to the first room
Filled with young monks.
“Please shave my head, please.”
“We can't do it for fear of gossip.”
I opened the door to the second room
Filled with middle-aged monks.
“Please shave my head, please.”
“We can't do it for fear of gossip.”
I opened the door to the third room
Filled with old monks.
“Please shave my head, please.”
“We can't do it for fear of gossip.”
“When I am at this strait,
There will be no trouble,
So please shave my head.”
I held a lamp in my hand, and
One monk shaved a side behind my ear.
My nun's robe was wet from tears.
I held a lamp with my hand,
And another shaved both sides of my head;
I could not weep loud.
“Oh, listen, people in the world,
Is there no place for me to live
Under the sky without pillars,
That I've my head shaved
With a young woman's face?”
After managing to pass three years
I the nun climbed a hill and saw
A gentleman approaching
Who looked like my own husband.
That gentleman said,
“Wouldn't there be a person like me
If you walked the four quarters?”
Looked at from the side it was he,
Looked at crossways it was he.
He was my man no matter how I looked,
It was clear that he was my husband.
I asked him to remove his hat—
Indeed, he was my husband!
Look how he behaved!
He dismounted from his horse in stockinged feet,
Rushed toward me, grasped my hands,
Examined my face, and exclaimed,
“What's happened, what's happened?
What has happened to my wife?”
“I won't go back to your household.
Don't speak nonsense, I won't return.
Now that I've had my head shaved,
I'll return after three years of study.
If it's only between you and me,
I'll go with you this instant:
But I cannot stand, not at all,
My father-in-law's yelling,
Mother-in-law's bitching,
And sister-in-law's chattering.
So I won't go with you.
Return to your home alone and marry
A girl like a flower from a good family.
When you enjoy the company of gallant men,
Don't forget even in a dream my pitiful life,
Don't forget how I've suffered.
If you think of me in your dream,
Then, even if I'm dead,
I'll tie grass to return your kindness.”

Parting from her like this,
The husband returned home.
His father came forward and said,
“Our daughter-in-law fled last night
Because you did not return.”
The husband stopped taking food and water,
Entered the thatched hut in the rear garden,
And opened the door to her room.
Three feet of dust had settled.
A quilt, pillow, mandarin-duck embroidered bedding
Meant for two, a chamber pot,
A silver ring like a halter—
All scattered all over the room.
Where was the husband gone,
Not knowing how her innards burned?
If her father was a pharmacist,
Would he be able to cure her illness?
Where was his wife gone,
When could he return her kindness?
At last he died of heartache,
And that household became
A field of mugwort abandoned.