Dongguk Isangguk Jip (Collected Works of Minister Yi of the Eastern Country) 東國李相國集 · Yi Gyubo · Compiled 1241 (Goryeo, 28th year of King Gojong); revised and enlarged 1251 · 1 passages · 140 Chinese characters · reading time 1.3 min
Dongguk Isangguk Jip (Collected Works of Minister Yi of the Eastern Country) Former Collection, Book 15 The collected writings of Yi Gyubo of Goryeo, gathered and cut in woodblock by his son Yi Ham in 1241 and revised and enlarged by his grandson Yi Ikbae in 1251. It holds poems and rhapsodies, memorials and reports sent up to the king, records written for temples and pagodas, stele and tomb inscriptions, letters and prefaces, and the state letters that passed to and from the Mongols during the invasions. The Lay of King Dongmyeong, which sings the founder of Goguryeo, stands in volume 3 of the first collection, and the daily life of a man who called himself the White Cloud Layman — with his wine, his zither and his verse — fills the later collection. The book closes with the last poem he wrote as his eyes failed and he laid down the brush, and with the dirge and tomb inscription others made for him after his death.
I am by nature a man who loves wine,
and my mouth never left the cup.
Even when there was no guest to drink with me,
I never declined to pour for myself alone.
But now there is no green wine in the jar —
with what shall I wet my dry lips?
In days past, when I was in the capital,
there was something left over from the salary I drew each month.
I brewed a crock of about this size
and there was never a time I stopped ladling and drinking.
If the house wine happened not to hold out,
I bought and drank, and it was a true delight.
Alas for the magistrate of Gyeyang!
His salary is thin, and it is hard even to keep up the brewing.
In a desolate village of two or three houses,
where is there the green flag of a wine shop?
Nor is there anyone fond of such doings
to load up wine and come following after me.
In a single hall I sit upright,
and all day long prop my chin alone.
Having already become a minister cast out,
hunger and thirst are truly my due.
Why should I idly resent it of myself
and knit a few inches of eyebrow?
I open my mouth and force out a great laugh,
but the laugh is cold and turns into a sob instead.
Do not let this talk slip out lightly,
for those who hear it will laugh at me.