미국의 유력 언론인 월스트리트저널이 2014 소치 동계올림픽 폐막을 맞아 '피겨 여왕' 김연아에게 바치는 시를 공개했습니다.
월스트리트저널은 2014년 2월 24일 미국의 기자이자 시인 쾀 도우스가 폐막식에 맞춰 '폐막식, 유나, 예의를 차리지 않은 은메달'이란 제목을 단 김연아 헌정시를 실었습니다.
소치 동계올림픽 피겨 금메달은 김연아라고 생각하시면
아래 손가락을 눌러주세요
쾀 도우스 김연아 헌정시 어떤 내용 담고 있나?
공개된 쾀 도우스의 시에서는 "금메달을 놓치고서/모두가 우승을 빼앗긴 것이라고 소란을 피워도/그녀는 무거운 짐을 내려놓아 홀가분했으리라, 나는 믿었다/"라고 김연아 선수의 아쉬운 은메달을 노래했습니다.
또한 "이제 그녀는 스케이트를 벗고 땅에 발을 내딛는다/경기장 밖으로 한 걸음 한 걸음 멀어져 간다"고 쓰며 선수생활에서 은퇴하는 김연아를 표현하기도 했습니다.
근데, 쾀 도우스 이 시인 김연아 뿐만 아니라 솥트니도 찬양했다는데?
하지만 김연아 헌정시를 쓴 시인 쾀 도우스는 지난 2월 20일 여자 싱글 피겨스케이팅에서 우승한 러시아의 아델리나 소트니코바를 찬양하는 시를 썼던 것으로도 밝혀졌고, 지난 14일에는 남자 싱글 피겨스케이팅에서 부상으로 출전을 포기한 예브게니 플루셴코에 대한 아쉬움을 시로 표현하기도 했던 것으로 알려졌습니다.
이에 네티즌들은 예브게니 플루셴코와 김연아의 경우 시로 풀어낼 만한 소재가 된다고 해도, 아델리나 소트니코바는 도대체 시가 왜 동원되야했는지, 이건 시에 대한 모독 아니냐며 의아함을 보이기도 했습니다. 아래 김연아 헌정시 비상 (Flight)과 아델리나 소트니코바 헌정시인 '승리를 위하여 (To Win)'의 전문 담았습니다.
FLIGHT
Prologue
And in the end,
for all the tears
the scandals
the national pride,
the canned narratives,
the myth of glory
all that remains
for this witness
is the poetry
of bodies risking
everything in them
to defy the yanking
pull of gravity—
the atrophy, the decay,
the sheer inevitability
of our deaths—and in this
defiance is the lasting
thing—the games, the holy
games of our splendid hubris.
1
Below them, their insect bodies
etched into the sky—
limbs, tentacles, and the graceful
lean forward—
from here they are doing nothing
short of the miracle
of flight, and we, too, rejoice in this
safe and miraculous
landing in the dust of snow—the cowbells
welcome them home.
2
There is no need
for the whisper
of slow motion
to teach us the fluid
kinesis of these
swooping
speed skaters,
balancing the world
on the thin edge
of a blade, one stroke
at a time, in constant
torque,
turning gravity
into a play thing—
this is purified speed.
3
When a woman collapses
on the unwelcome bed of snow,
her body broken by the last
painful dig and pull
across the shifting dust,
you know she has died
to everything else in her
but the will to cross
that stain of red to the anthem
of the clanging crowd.
4
for Yuna Kim
And when she said softly,
that she was happy now
that it was over, this
when she had lost the gold,
and the bedlam around
her told her she was cheated,
I believed her, believed
her relief, her sense that
the weight of it all
was now gone, that the queen
unburdened of the stone
around her to tutor
her body through pain
and to carry the flame
of envy, anger, awe and fear
inside her, stoking it
for years and years
as a flame—that this was
over now, and all she felt
was relief, gladness, and peace—
when she said, I am happy,
it is over, I believed her.
And she, skateless,
mortal, grounded, she walked,
stuttering and ordinary,
away from the arena.
Epilogue
Closing ceremony
There is a boat,
there is a harlequin
there are children
there is the contraption
of our vanity—
the mechanicals
have arrived
and we cheer
the flying boat—
the ritual and pomp
the presidents
and prime ministers
with the cost of blood
in their heads,
the officials
dispensing weed
to calm our nerves
and the vanquished
and triumphant,
the significant
and insignificant,
the strings, the oboes,
the flutes, and the wash
of alarums from the horns;
we land, we land, we land.
소트니코바 헌정시 전문
TO WIN
For Adelina Sotnikova
For every leap, triple rotation, and swooping landing,
the blade holding on the slick; for every miracle
of flight and alighting, for those bodies catapulted
into dervishes of blurring grace, for every breath
held to willing a safe and fluid ballet with the music
tinkering through the hollow hall, someone is praying
for catastrophe, for slippage, for a stumble, for that
stomach numbing fall, the limbs hastily trying to
find themselves again—these are the wars that hover
over the arena, and when someone arrives at that final
spin, slowly to the music’s fall, her arms raised
in delicate ascent—when something like the perfection
of the miraculous has happened before us, perfect
not for the absence of flaws, but for the hint
of humanity in the slight stumble on a landing,
and then the resurrected genius of recovery; and even
those wishing for a broken art, must sigh, nod
and join the thunder of voices howling with glee,
yes, but mostly with the relief we feel to find the traveler
arriving on the other side of the gorge, intact,
breathing, surviving it all; and this, then
is the abundance of spirit, eroding our frail souls,
turning the white hard ice into a garden of bouquets,
while darting nymphs, gather up in their arms
the rainfall of delight from the gleeful witnesses.
