Yetgeul › Dongguk Isangguk Jip (Collected Works of Minister Yi of the Eastern Country) › Former Collection, Book 17

Again Matching the Rhymes of Academician Yu's Poem Hung on a Board, Given to the Prior又次板上庾學士韻。贈住老比丘。

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 · 84 Chinese characters · reading time 0.9 min

Dongguk Isangguk Jip (Collected Works of Minister Yi of the Eastern Country) Former Collection, Book 17 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.

逐客不妨山寺遊。朅來寬我心中憂。道人眼碧眉覆額。坐穴藜床今幾秋。笑予不早掛冠去。其於防身智莫周。俛首不答顔已厚。白汗如瀉紛難收。幽泉泠泠舂石齒。晴雪漼漼落松頭。山中信美無由留。出門欲去增添愁。

Even a banished wayfarer need not scruple to roam a mountain temple, and coming here I soften the cares within my heart. The man of the Way has blue eyes and brows that cover his forehead; how many years has he sat on his goosefoot bench and worn a hole in it? He laughs that I did not hang up my cap and leave early, and says that in guarding myself my wisdom did not reach all round. I bow my head and cannot answer — my face is thick enough already, and pale sweat pours down so that I can hardly gather it in. The hidden spring babbles and pounds the teeth of the stones; the snow of a clear day comes rustling down from the pine tips. The mountain is truly lovely, but there is no way for me to stay, and going out the gate to leave, my cares only grow.