Just when you thought that spring has come and put away all your warm winter clothes, the last winter freeze hits you and dust storms invade the country from across the seas. The fickle weather forces us to resign ourselves to a couple more weeks of winter, but then flowers begin to bloom and the balmy breezes caress our faces and the spring is here when you least expected it. That’s what April is like in Korea. There was an ancient Chinese poet from the Song dynasty who wrote the following poem.

For what is the grass on the hills across the river so green?
For whom are the flowers in the mountains so red?
The Creator has always been silent
But the spring breezes always make a big fuss every year.

The spring weather is about the same every year, but us humans make such a fuss over this season as if we’ve never seen spring before. Let’s begin this week’s Sounds of Korea with a Korean crossover ensemble, The Forest, performing “Hwaryudongpung,” which translates to “Flowers, Willows, and East Wind.”

Hwaryudongpung/ Performed by The Forest

When the frozen rivers and earth begin to thaw and the snow starts to melt, travelers, who were stranded all throughout the winter, get ready to continue their journeys. Some of them probably felt sorry that they have to leave behind people they’ve befriended or become involved romantically over the long winter. In the old days such a traveler would give a fresh willow tree branch to their loved one as a token of affection. Willow trees are found in abundance near ferry docks and even a broken willow branch takes root very easily when planted in the ground. A plucked willow branch represents that person’s love. This is why a gisaeng named Hongnang wrote the following poem as she bade goodbye to her lover.

I break off a willow branch and leave it in the hands of my love.
Plant it outside the window of your bedroom and watch it grow.
If a new leaf sprouts after a night rain, think of it as myself.


The Chinese character used for the willow tree is pronounced the same way as the word that means ‘to stay.’ The willow tree in this poem represented Hongnang’s wish for her love to stay even when she was saying goodbye to him. That conflicting sentiment is also described in Korean poet Han Yong-un’s “Silence of My Beloved” with the passage that goes, “Ah, my beloved has gone, but I have refused to let him go.”

Song of Parting / Sung by Lee Eun-joo

That was master singer Lee Eun-joo singing a Gyeonggi Province folk song titled “Song of Parting.” While some people weep over the separation from their loved ones, others get all excited over the prospects of springtime picnics and outdoor activities. Such diverse feelings are what make human lives so interesting and healthy. Now let’s listen to a song passed down in Gyeonggi Province called “Santaryeong” or “Mountain Song.” This song belongs to a genre called “seonsori,” which means a song performed while standing up. Unlike gisaengs who sing while seated down demurely, seonsori singers perform while beating a small drum or waving a towel, all the while standing up and dancing. This Gyeonggi folk song is actually an invitation to an outing. It begins with a passage, “The mountain and river are all lush and green with trees and it is wonderful to see the sights,” but the rest of the song is largely filled with impromptu interjections that convey how enjoyable the outing is. As a matter of fact, not that many words or phrases are needed when expressing how fun it is to go out on a spring picnic. Let’s wrap up this episode of Sounds of Korea with Gyeonggi Santaryeong performed by Hwang Yong-ju and the chorus.

Gyeonggi Santaryeong / Hwang Yong-ju and chorus