수염

그러니까 80년 이른 봄부터 나는 고질인 천식이 도져서 석 달 동안이나 자리보전을 하고 누웠었다. 그래서 수염이 턱밑까지 무성히 자라고 그야말로 세상 이제 별볼일 없는 사람이었다.

때는 공교롭게도 제5공화국의 출범기였는데 그 주역들이 나의 도야지 꼬리만한 허명을 탐내서 나를 정치현실에 끌어들이려 들었다. 물론 나는 완강히 거절했는데 덧붙이기를 "보시다시피 이런 폐물을 내세운들 무슨 일을 치겠느냐"면서 오히려 달랬다.

나의 말이나 꼬라지가 그들에게도 일단 수긍이 갔던지 처음에는 기세 등등하여 "선생님이 거절하셔도 우리는 우리의 결정을 그대로 발표합니다."던 그들도 그럭저럭 딴 사람을 물색해서 나는 시인으로 탈없이 이 땅의 세파를 또 한고비 무사히 넘겼다. . . . . .

  From the early spring of 1980 I was confined to my bed for about three months by a severe attack of chronic asthma. As a result my beard grew thickly beneath my chin and there was really nothing I could do about it.

  As chance would have it, that was just when the 5th Republic was being launched, and the kingpins of the moment wanted to have my paltry reputation, no bigger than a pig's tail, on their side, so they set out to drag me into their 'political reality'. Of course I firmly declined, calmly urging them, 'You can see I'm on the rubbish heap, what help do you think it will be to have me?'

  Whether it was my words or my face that finally convinced them I'm not sure, for at first they were all hoity-toity, with 'Even if you refuse, we'll go ahead with our decision and announce your name anyway,' but finally they picked on someone else, and as a poet I safely survived one more of the ups and downs of our country's troubled history.

  However, apprehensive of possible further demands or enticements, I decided to let my beard stay, with only a little trimming, just a white beard on my chin, like the old men of former times, and at first all the people I met had something to say about it; those not particularly close to me but much younger would say,
--  It suits you so well. Anyone has only to see you to know that you are a poet. You look like some wise master or hermit, far above all earthly things.
  They would laud it to the skies, while my family and close friends said,
--  Take that thing off your face. Haven't you got anything better to do?
--  To be sure, you look just like the founder of some heathen religion. Now show yourself in your true colours!
  Their scolding and sarcastic remarks came thick and fast.

  And whenever I went to any meeting, for want of a better topic the conversation would always end up focussing on my beard, so that for fear that in such groups as The Hundred someone would demand a public explanation as to why I was letting my beard grow, since I could hardly tell the real reason, I would say,
--  I felt that you were not giving me sufficient respect, so to get a little more...
  Which once provoked Sok Dong to say,
--  From now on let us all resolve to respect Ku Sang's beard, and nothing else!
  For which I had to endure a burst of mocking laughter.

  How time heals! Now 7 or 8 years have gone by and my beard seems to have found its place; luckily no one seems interested in criticizing it nowadays, but there is one annoying thing about it: at present, whenever I attend any public function I can be sure that the TV cameras will come zooming in on this white-bearded face of mine. And since that seems to get broadcast, my acquaintances often greet me with 'We're always seeing you on TV,' so that it seems to have had quite the opposite effect to what was intended when I grew my beard in the first place, but I can't shave it off again...  Well, nothing's perfect in this world, is it?
 

Note: The Hundred is an association founded by the late Ms Kim Hwal-lan. Sok Dong is the literary name of the children's writer Yun Sok-chung.