Until the day I die I long to have no speck of shame when I gaze up toward heaven,
so I have tormented myself, even when the wind stirs the leaves.
With a heart that sings the stars, I will love all dying things.
And I will walk the way that has been given to me.
Tonight, again, the wind brushes the stars.

The poet Yun Dong-ju’s signature poem “Prologue” is recited in a scene of the musical “Yun Dong-ju Shoots the Moon.” The production was staged from May 6 through 12, at the Seoul Arts Center in southern Seoul. Often cited as one of Korean people’s favorite poets, Yun’s life and dreams were revived on stage through music and dance. Here’s the show’s director Kwon Ho-seong.

Yun Dong-ju’s life was short and far from dynamic. His life is often defined as serene and thoughtful. He used to enjoy taking a walk and reading. He wasn’t very talkative, either. Sometimes he would go without speaking for a whole day. I think he was a reflective young man. That reflection is what gives power to his poetry. His views of a time in history appear more powerful than that of any other literary figures. He didn’t write about some big, impactful events, like those experienced by other freedom fighters, but his poems have quiet strength. This production is based more on Yun’s thoughts and energy that flow in his poems, rather than his life itself. That was this musical’s basic concept.

The untainted and sublime elegance of Yun’s poems are still very much admired, as demonstrated in the events celebrating his life and poetry, such as Yun Dong-ju Literature House, which opened in central Seoul last July, and the current “Yun Dong-ju Shoots the Moon” production by the Seoul Performing Arts Company.

“Yun Dong-ju Shoots the Moon” was produced to commemorate one of Korea’s most well-known national poets. The show’s director Kwon Ho-seong claims that this creative production stood apart from conventional musicals.

With all the musical productions imported from abroad, I wanted to present a new type of musical. The result was “Yun Dong-ju Shoots the Moon.” This musical’s subject matter was from Korea’s contemporary history and its style was more Korean, with an emphasis on emotions instead of spectacular music numbers. So it turned out more like a contemporary play with song and dance rather than a conventional musical.

The show began with a scene of Seoul in the 1930s, with the entrance to the Yonhi College, the predecessor of today’s Yonsei University, a trolley car, streets of Gyeongseong, the former name of Seoul, and a church steeple in the background. The musical “Yun Dong-ju Shoots the Moon” covered the events in Yun’s life between 1938, when he was a literature major at Yonhi College, and early 1945, the year of his death.

The musical starts out at a time when Yun was a college student and ends when he dies in Fukuoka prison. His poems are read at various points in the show, because Yun cannot be understood without his poetry. His poems were placed in many parts of the show so that people can understand his thoughts and the sentiments of the time through the scenes.

The emotions of the shy and intelligent poet were represented in blue lighting and the moon. The moon hung above the stage symbolized Yun Dong-ju’s inner thoughts as well as the Japanese regime’s oppression of Korea. The shape of the moon changed from the crescent moon to the full one to show the increase in psychological pressure or internal conflict felt by the poet, and finally burst with Yun’s death.

Before the chorus in the finale, Yun reads his poem to the audience, a scene where his emotions gush forth. I have always thought that the poem “A Night of Counting Stars” was a lyrical piece, but through the show I realized how heartbreaking it is and it made me think about his life and tragic death.

This was the show’s second round of presentation, following the one last year, but still sold 90% of the seats.

- The poems were lyrical to begin with, but they became more emotionally stirring when melodies were added to them.
- Seeing a performance of Yun’s poems made me think about his life again. I didn’t feel such deep emotions when I read his poems in school, but it was really moving hearing the poems with music and watching the actors perform them.

Yun Dong-ju Literary House, which opened last year, saw 35,000 visitors so far. A literary museum dedicated to Yun is located at the foot of Mt. Inwang in Seoul’s Cheongwun-dong neighborhood. Here’s Yun Dong-ju Literary House officer Choi Gyeong-won to tell us more about the museum.

Yun used to live by himself in Nusang-dong, Jongno-gu District, when he was a student at Yonhi College. What’s why the Jongno District Office created Yun Dong-ju Hill at the site vacated by an apartment complex near Mt. Inwang. Yun is said to have taken morning walks in Mt. Inwang. He wrote most of his famous poems when he was living alone. He is said to have gotten the inspirations for his signature works such as “Prologue,” “A Night of Counting Stars,” and “Self Portrait” when he was strolling in the mountain. Yun Dong-ju Hill was created along the path he took back then. On the hill there is a small pavilion named the Prologue Pavilion and a stone tablet with his poem engraved on it.

Most of his beloved poems were written when he was attending Yonhi College and living under Mt. Inwang in 1938. For this reason Yun Dong-ju Hill was set up and Yun Dong-ju Literary House established on July 25, 2012. What’s so special about the museum is that it opened not in a new building, but in a remodeled water supply facility. The building may not look stylish or imposing on the outside, but its clean, white façade seems to well represent the poet’s pure heart.

The first exhibition hall, a remodeled machinery room, features the poet’s photos and handwritten manuscripts. Here’s the museum guide Choi Jeong-nam.



The first hall with nine display walls represents the poet’s life and his literary mind. Yun came to Seoul to go to college and wrote such famed poems as “Prologue,” “A Night of Counting Stars,” and “Self Portrait.” He then went to Japan to study, but was arrested for inciting political unrest. He was imprisoned in Fukuoka and died there in February of 1945, just a few months before Korea’s liberation. The hall features photos, his personal belongings, and handwritten manuscripts from his college days until the memorial edition of his poems was published in 1948.

Yun’s life stretches before our eyes in the first exhibition hall. Looking at the displays, it feels as if he still lives among us.

There is a wood panel encased in glass. That’s a panel from a well in Yun’s birthplace. He was born in Yanbian, China and the well panel was brought here when his childhood home was undergoing restoration. The glass wall covering the panel is etched with Yun’s poem “Self Portrait,” an introspective piece inspired by his own face reflected on the well water. The poem was written when he was a Yonhi College student, but the well was an important part of the poem, so we etched the poem on the glass cover.

Skirting the foot of the hill by myself, I come to a lone well by a paddy
and silently look into it.
In the well there is the moon, shining bright, clouds flowing by, and the sky spreading open.
A blue wind wafts. It is autumn.
Therein is a man as well. I hate him but I know not why.
I turn away from him and go away.
Going away, I come to feel compassion for him.
I return and again look into the well. Therein remains that man.
Again, I come to hate him and go away.
Going away I come to long for him.
In the well there is the moon, shining bright, clouds flowing by and the sky spreading open.
A blue wind wafts. It is autumn, and the man therein is but a remembrance.

His life was a short one, only 27 years, but each one of those years was meaningful and unforgettable. He and his classmates quit middle school in protest of the Japanese colonial regime’s forced tribute to a Japanese shrine, and he had to endure the humiliation of changing his name to Hiranuma when he went to Japan in 1942 to further his studies. In Japan he was arrested for inciting political dissent and died after having been subjected to the Japanese military’s medical experiment. Every event in his life was heartbreaking. Whenever everything appeared to be tragic and hopeless, Yun turned to poetry. One such piece was “Confessions,” written five days before his name change. Here’s the museum guide Choi Jeong-nam.

You can see that there is lots of doodling and scrawling on the original manuscript of “Confession.” But, when you look carefully, those scribbles say “advancement,” “power,” and “survival.” Judging from these words, Yun must have been agonizing over changing his name to a Japanese one.

Beyond an iron gate leading out of the first exhibition hall, there is a square outdoor garden, designed to resemble a well.

This is the second exhibition hall. Many visitors are perplexed by it and ask us why there is nothing here. This used to be a water tank. There were two water tanks here side by side, and one was turned into the second hall. The cover of the abandoned water tank was removed to create a courtyard, allowing people to see the sky, the clouds, the wind, and the stars above. This is a place where you can feel Yun’s poetic concept.

The second exhibition hall demonstrated that you can feel a person’s emotions by being in a place. Next to the hall is a heavy steel door painted in black.

The third exhibition hall represents the prison in Fukuoka where Yun died in February 1945.

This hall is another abandoned water tank. The top was not removed to block out the light. It’s dark, wet, and cold. This is a recreation of the solitary cell where Yun met his death. You can see a 12-minute video here, a short documentary of Yun’s life and poetry.

Visitors fall into somber silence as they watch a video of Yun’s short, tragic life.

- I’m 27 years old, the same age as the poet when he died. I can’t help comparing my life with his. I’m worried about getting a job, but he was thinking about his country. I was deeply moved.
- I love his poem “Prologue” and it was really touching to see all this. He was thinking about Korea even under the difficult circumstances. I was impressed by how he tried to keep his conscience clear by writing poems.
- How could he have maintained his passion for literature in a time so full of turmoil? It was impressive to see his unwavering commitment.

The poet Yun Dong-ju still lives among us and inspires us through his poems, the new musical production, and a museum in his name.