Before the sun rises
With the carrying pole on my shoulders
I go to the well
Today again
At the end of a Jongno back alley, one well
Every dawn she's there before me
The sound of the bucket going down, the sound of water being drawn
I stand behind and wait my turn
The end of her hair ribbon is wet, her hands are red
All I see is her back as she carries the jar away
One word would be enough, just one word
It turns in my mouth and falls into the water
In spring, petals floated in the bucket
In summer, sweat gathered on her forehead
In autumn, fallen leaves covered the water
In winter, the two of us broke the ice, without a word
Standing at the well
There's something deeper than the water
I never even asked her name
And a year goes by
When I pull the bucket up
Only my face is floating there
She is gone
And the water is the same
Today she didn't come
Nor tomorrow, nor the day after
The woman next door says, drawing water
"That house's daughter got married, I hear — across the river"
I lowered the bucket
Like always, as if nothing had happened
The water is cold, same as yesterday
So why are my hands shaking
If I had said one word, would it have been different
No — what changes from one word out of a lowborn's mouth
Just that one view of her back every morning
That was enough to live a year on, it was enough
I don't know her name
Should I have asked
No
Better not to know
That way I can't call it
Standing at the well
There's something deeper than the water
I never even asked her name
And a year goes by
When I pull the bucket up
Only my face is floating there
She is gone
And the water is the same
Before the sun rises
I go to the well
Today again