¼­Ç³ÀÇ ³ë·¡ Ode to the West Wind

- ½©¸® Percy Bysshe Shelley(1792~1822)

 

 

 

I

II

¿À, »ç³ª¿î ¼­Ç³, ³Ê °¡À»ÀÇ ¼û°áÀÌ¿©!

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,

³ÊÀÇ Á¸Àç ¾Õ¿¡¼­ ÈÖ¸ô¸®´Â Á×Àº ÀÙ»õµéÀº

Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead

´«¿¡´Â ¾È º¸¿©µµ ¸¶¼ú»ç¿¡°Ô Âѱâ´Â À¯·ÉÀÇ ¹«¸®¿Í °°µµ´Ù .

Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,

 

 

´©·±, °ËÀº, Æĸ®ÇÑ, ȤÀº »¡°£ ¿­±â¶ç¿î

Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,

¿­º´¿¡ °É¸° Àú ¹«¸®µé, ¿À, ³Ê´Â

Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou,

±× ¹«¸®µéÀ» °ËÀº °Ü¿ïÀÇ Àá ÀÚ¸®·Î ¸ô¾ÆÄ£´Ù.

Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed

 

 

±×·¯¸é ±×µé ³¯°³µ¸Ä£ ¾¾¾ÑµéÀº ±× ¹«´ý ¼Ó¿¡

The wing? seeds, where they lie cold and low,

½ÃüµÇ¾î Â÷µðÂ÷°Ô »ç±×¶óÁ® Àáµå³ª´Ï,

Each like a corpse within its grave, until

³ÊÀÇ Çϴúû º½ ´©ÀÌ°¡ ²Þ²Ù´Â ´ëÁöÀ§¿¡

Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow

 

 

±× ³ªÆÈÀ» ºÙ¾î´ë¾î(Çâ±â·Î¿î ²ÉºÀ¿À¸®¸¦ Ç®¶â´Â

Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill

¾ç¶¼Ã³·³ Ȱ¦ °øÁßÀ¸·Î ÈÖ¸ô¾Æ¼­)

(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)

»ê°ú µéÀ» »ý±â¼Ú´Â ºû±ò°ú Çâ±â·Î °¡µæ ä¿ì´Â ±×³¯ÀÌ ¿Ã ¶§±îÁö.

With living hues and odors plain and hill:

 

 

°Å¼¾ Á¤½ÅÀÌ¿©, ±× ¾îµðµç ¶°µµ´Â ³Ê´Â

Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;

Æı«ÀÚÀÌ¸ç ¶ÇÇÑ º¸Á¸ÀÚ, µéÀ¸¶ó. ¿À, ³ªÀÇ ¸»À».

Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!

 

 

II

II

³×°¡ Èê·¯°¡¸é °¡Æĸ¥ õ°ø¿¡´Â ³­µ¿ÀÌ ÀÏ°í,

Thou on whose stream, 'mid the steep sky's commotion,

±×·¯¸é Èð¾îÁö´Â ±¸¸§Àº ´ëÁöÀ§¿¡¼­ ½â¾î°¡´Â ³«¿±Ã³·³

Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed,

Çϴðú ´ë¾ç¿¡ ¾ôÈù °¡Áö·ÎºÎÅÍ ¿ì¼ö¼ö ¶³¾îÁø´Ù.

Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean,

 

 

ºñ¿Í ¹ø°³ÀÇ »çÀÚµé, ³ÊÀÇ Çϴ🮴 ¹°°áÀÇ

Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread

Ǫ¸¥ Ç¥¸é¿£, ¾î´À »ç³ª¿î '¹Ì³»µå'ÀÇ ¸Ó¸® À§¿¡

On the blue surface of thine aery surge,

Ä¡¼ÚÀº ºû³ª´Â ¸Ó¸®´Üó·³,

Like the bright hair uplifted from the head

 

 

Èñ¹ÌÇÑ ÁöÆò¼± ¾ðÀú¸®¿¡¼­

Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge

õ´ç ³¡ ´ê´Âµ¥ À̸£±â±îÁö

Of the horizon to the zenith's height,

´Ù°¡¿À´Â Æødz¿ìÀÇ ¸Ó¸®Ä«¶ôÀÌ ÈÖ³¯¸°´Ù.

The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge

 

 

³Ê, ÇÑ ÇØ°¡ Àú¹°¾î ¹ãÀ» ºÒ·¯¿À´Â ¸¸°¡¿©,

Of the dying year, to which this closing night

³ÊÀÇ ¿Â°® Áõ±â Çѵ¥ ¹¶Ä£ ¸·°­ÇÑ ÈûÀº

Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre,

°Å´ëÇÑ µÕ±Ù ¹«´ýµÇ°í ±× õÁ¤À» ÀÌ·êÁö´Ï,

Vaulted with all thy congregated might

 

 

ÀÌÁ¦ ±× ëêͳÇÑ ´ë±â·ÎºÎÅÍ,

Of vapors, from whose solid atmosphere

»õ±î¸¸ ºñ¿Í, ºÒ±æ°ú, ¿ì¹ÚÀÌ ÅÍÁ®³ª¿À¸®¶ó. ¿À, µé¾îº¸¶ó!

Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: oh, hear!

 

 

III

III

'º£ÀÌÀÌ'¸¸¿¡ ¶á Ý©à´ÀÇ ¼¶°¡¿¡ ´©¿ö

Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams

¼öÁ¤¹°°á °¨µµ´Â Æĵµ¼Ò¸®¿¡ Àáµé¾î

The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,

¿©¸§³¯ÀÇ ²Þ¿¡ Àá°å´ø Ǫ¸¥ ÁöÁßÇظ¦ Àϱú¿î ³Ê,

Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams,

 

 

´« ¾Õ¿¡ ±×·Á¸¸ º¸¾Æµµ °¨°¢ÀÌ ¾ÆÂñÇØÁö´Â

Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay,

Çϴûö À̳¢¿Í Çâ±â·Î¿î ²É¼Ó¿¡ ÆĹ¯Èù

And saw in sleep old palaces and towers

¿¾ ±ÃÀü°ú žµéÀÌ ¹°°á¿¡ ¹Ý»çµÇ¾î

Quivering within the wave's intenser day,

 

 

´õ¿í °­·ÄÇÑ ÇÞºú ¼Ó¿¡¼­ ¶³°í ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀ»

All overgrown with azure moss and flowers

²Þ°á¿¡ ±×·Á º¸´Â ÁöÁßÇظ¦ Àϱú¿î ³Ê,

So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou

³×°¡ ±æÀ» ³ª¼­¸é °­´ëÇÑ ´ë¼­¾çÀÇ ÀÜÀÜÇÑ ¹°°á ¶ÇÇÑ

For whose path the Atlantic's level powers

   

½º½º·Î ÂÉ°³Á® ³ª°¡ ±æÀ» ÅÍÁÖ°í

Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below

Àú ¾Æ·¡ ¹Ù´å°¡¿£

The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear

¹Ù´Ù²É, Áó¾ø´Â ÀÙ»õ ¿ì°ÅÁø ½À±âÂù ¹Ù´Ù½£ÀÌ

The sapless foliage of the ocean, know

   

³ÊÀÇ ¸ñ¼Ò¸® µè°í °Ì¿¡ Áú·Á Á¹Áö¿¡ ¹é¹ßµÇ°í

Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear,

¿Â ¸öÀ» ¶³¾î ÀÙÀ» ¶³¾î¶ß¸°´Ù. ¿À, µé¾îº¸¶ó!

And tremble and despoil themselves: oh, hear!

   

IV

IV

³» ¸¸ÀÏ ÈÖ³¯¸®´Â ÇÑ ÀÙ ³«¿±À̶ó¸é,

If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;

³» ¸¸ÀÏ ³Ê¿Í ÇÔ²² ³¯¾Æ°¡´Â ³¯¼¾ ÇÑ Á¶°¢ ±¸¸§À̶ó¸é,

If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee;

³ÊÀÇ Èû¿¡ Áþ´­·Á Çæ´öÀ̸鼭µµ ³ÊÀÇ ÈûÂù ¸Æ¹ÚÀ»

A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share

   

ÇÔ²² ³ª´©´Â Æĵµ¶ó¸é, ±× ÀÚÀ¯¸¸ ³Êº¸´Ù ¸øÇÒ »ÓÀÏÁø´ë,

The impulse of thy strength, only less free

Á¦¾îÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø´Â ÀÚ¿©!

Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even

³» ¾ÆÁ÷µµ ³» ¾î¸° ½ÃÀý°°¾Æ,

I were as in my boyhood, and could be

   

³ÊÀÇ ÇÏ´Ã ¹æ¶û±æ Ä£±¸°¡ µÇ¾úÀ¸·Ã¸¸,

The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven,

±×·¡¼­ ÇÏ´Ã ´Þ¸®´Â ³Ê¸¦ ¾ÕÁö¸£´Â °ÍÀÌ

As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed

°áÄÚ °ø»ó¸¸Àº ¾Æ´Ï¾ú´ø ±× ½ÃÀýÀÇ ³ª¶ó°í ÇÒÁö¶óµµ,

Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne'er have striven

   

³ª´Â ÀÌÅä·Ï °£ÀýÇÑ ¼Ò¸ÁÀÇ ±â¿ø¼Ó¿¡¼­ ³Ê¿Í °Ü·çÁö´Â ¾ÊÀ¸¸®¶ó.

As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.

¿À, ÀÌ ³» ¸ö ÀÏÀ¸ÄÑ´Ù¿À. ÆĵµÃ³·³, ÀÙ»õó·³, ±¸¸§Ã³·³!

Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!

³ª´Â ÀλýÀÇ °¡½Ã¹ç¿¡ ¾²·¯Áø´Ù! ³ª´Â ÇÇÈ기´Ù!

I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!

   

Áþ´©¸£´Â ½Ã°£ÀÇ Áß¾ÐÀÌ ³ª¸¦ »ç½½·Î ¹­°í ±ÁÇô ¹ö·Èµµ´Ù.

A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed

±æµéÁÙ ¸ð¸£°í, ¹ÎøÇÏ°í, ÀÚÁ¸½É °­ÇÑ, ³Ê¹«³ªµµ ³Ê¿Í °°¾Ò´ø ³ª¸¦

One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.

   

V

V

ÀÌ ³» ¸ö ³ÊÀÇ °Å¹®°í µÇ°ÔÇ϶ó, ½£ÀÌ ±×·¯ÇϵíÀÌ

Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:

³» ÀÙ»õµéÀÌ ½£ÀÇ ±×°Íó·³ ¶³¾îÁøµé ±× ¾î¶°·ª!

What if my leaves are falling like its own!

³ÊÀÇ Àå´ëÇÑ Á¶È­·Î¿î ¼ÒÀ½ÀÌ ³» ¸ö°ú ½£À» ¿Ã·Á

The tumult of thy mighty harmonies

   

½É¿ÀÇÑ °¡À»ÀÇ À½Á¶¸¦, ½½Çļӿ¡µµ ±êµç

Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,

°¨¹Ì·Î¿î ¾ÖÁ¶¸¦ ¾òÀ»ÁøÀú, ³Ê ¸Í·ÄÇÑ Á¤½ÅÀÌ¿©,

Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,

ÀÌ ³» Á¤½Å µÇ¾î´Ù¿À ! ³×°¡ ³ª µÇ¾î¶ó, °Ý·ÄÇÑ ÀÚ¿©!

My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

   

³ªÀÇ Á×Àº »ç»óÀ» ¸¶¸¥ ÀÙ»õ ÈÖ¸ô¾ÆÄ¡µí,

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe

¿ìÁÖ·Î ³¯·Á ½Å»ýÀ» ÀçÃËÇ϶ó!

Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!

±×¸®°í ÀÌ ½Ã¸¦ ÁÖ¹®»ï¾Æ

And, by the incantation of this verse,

   

²¨ÁöÁö ¾ÊÀº È­´ö¿¡¼­ Àç¿Í ºÒ²ÉÀ» ³¯¸®µí

Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth

ÀÌ ³» ¸»À» ¿Â ´©¸®¿¡°Ô Æ۶߷Á ´Ù¿À!

Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!

³» ÀÔ¼úÀ» ÅëÇØ Àá±úÁö ¸øÇÑ ´ëÁö¸¦ ÇâÇØ ºÎ´Â

Be through my lips to unawakened earth

   

¿¹¾ðÀÇ ³ªÆÈÀÌ µÇ¶ó! ¿À, '¹Ù¶÷' ÀÌ¿©,

The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,

°Ü¿ïÀÌ ¿À¸é º½ÀÌ ¸Ö ¼ö°¡ Àְڴ°¡?

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?