[감동적인 영시감상91]Last Days by Donald Hall

4월 22일은 평소에 좋아하는 시인중 한분인 

제인 케니언 씨가 세상을 떠난 날이다.

그녀의 남편이자 시인인 도날드 홀 씨가 

그녀의  아름다운 삶처럼 죽음 역시 슬프지만 아름답게 맞이할 수 있다는 것을

잘 보여 준 이 영시  " Last Days"를 다시 감상하면서

언제 어떻게 닥칠지 모르는 나의 임종을 어떻게 준비해야할지 

오랫동안 생각에 잠겨 본다.

그리고 케니언씨처럼 사랑하는 사람이 저 세상으로 가는 길을

옆에서 지켜 준다면 홀연히 편안하게 떠날 수 있을 것 같다.

Last Days (임종을 앞둔 며칠)
     by Donald Hall

"It was reasonable
to expect.” So he wrote. The next day,
in a consultation room,
Jane's hematologist Letha Mills sat down,
stiff, her assistant
standing with her back to the door.
"I have terrible news,"
Letha told them. “The leukemia is back.
There's nothing to do.”
The four of them wept. He asked how long,
why did it happen now?
Jane asked only: “Can I die at home?”

"어떤 이야기를 들을지 대충 짐작이 간다."

그는 노트에  적었다.  다음날,

진료실 내에서,

제인의 혈액전문의인 레타 밀스는 잔뜩 긴장한 채 기다리고

그녀의 부하직원도

등을 문에 기댄 채 서 있다.

"아주 나쁜 소식이 있습니다."

레타가 입을 열었다. "당신의 백혈병이 재발했네요.

안타깝게도 우리가 할 수 있는 것은 아무것도 없네요."

그 소식에 방에 있던 네사람 다 울었다.  그는 얼마나 남았는지,

왜 지금 재발이 되었는지 질문했고

제인은 "집에 가서 죽어도 될까요? 라고 물어 보았다.

Home that afternoon,
they threw her medicines into the trash.
Jane vomited. He wailed
while she remained dry-eyed – silent,
trying to let go. At night
he picked up the telephone to make
calls that brought
a child or a friend into the horror.

그날 집에 돌아와서 오후가 되자

그들은 그동안 복용하던 모든 약부터 쓰레기통에 버렸다.

제인은 구토를 했다.  그녀는 조용히 울지않고

상황을 받아들이는 동안,

남편은 목놓아 울었다.  밤이 되자

그는 수화기를 들고 나쁜 소식을

주위사람들에게 알리기 시작했고,

소식을 전해 들은 지인들은 무척 안타까워 했다.

The next morning,
they worked choosing among her poems
for Otherwise, picked
hymns for her funeral, and supplied each
other words as they wrote
and revised her obituary. The day after,
with more work to do
on her book, he saw how weak she felt,
and said maybe not now; maybe
later. Jane shook her head: “Now,” she said.
“We have to finish it now.”
Later, as she slid exhausted into sleep,
she said, “Wasn't that fun?
To work together? Wasn't that fun?”

He asked her, “What clothes
should we dress you in, when we bury you?”
“I hadn't thought,” she said.
“I wondered about the white salwar
kameez,” he said –
her favorite Indian silk they bought
in Pondicherry a year
and a half before, which she wore for best
or prettiest afterward.
She smiled. “Yes. Excellent,” she said.
He didn't tell her
that a year earlier, dreaming awake,
he had seen her
in the coffin in her white salwar kameez.

Still, he couldn't stop
planning. That night he broke out with,
“When Gus dies I'll
have him cremated and scatter his ashes
on your grave!” She laughed
and her big eyes quickened and she nodded:
“It will be good
for the daffodils.” She lay pallid back
on the flowered pillow:
“Perkins, how do you think of these things?”

They talked about their
adventures – driving through England
when they first married,
and excursions to China and India.
Also they remembered
ordinary days – pond summers, working
on poems together,
walking the dog, reading Chekhov
aloud. When he praised
thousands of afternoon assignations
that carried them into
bliss and repose on this painted bed,
Jane burst into tears
and cried, “No more fucking. No more fucking!”

Incontinent three nights
before she died, Jane needed lifting
onto the commode.
He wiped her and helped her back into bed.
At five he fed the dog
and returned to find her across the room,
sitting in a straight chair.
When she couldn't stand, how could she walk?
He feared she would fall
and called for an ambulance to the hospital,
but when he told Jane,
her mouth twisted down and tears started.
“Do we have to?” He canceled.
Jane said, “Perkins, be with me when I die.”

“Dying is simple,” she said.
“What's worst is… the separation.”
When she no longer spoke,
they lay along together, touching,
and she fixed on him
her beautiful enormous round brown eyes,
shining, unblinking,
and passionate with love and dread.

One by one they came,
the oldest and dearest, to say goodbye
to this friend of the heart.
At first she said their names, wept, and touched;
then she smiled; then
turned one mouth-corner up. on the last day
she stared silent goodbyes
with her hands curled and her eye stuck open.

Leaving his place beside her,
where her eyes stared, he told her,
“I'll put these letters
in the box.” She had not spoken
for three hours, and now Jane said
her last words: “O.K.”

At eight that night,
her eyes open as they stayed
until she died, brain-stem breathing
started, he bent to kiss
her pale cool lips again, and felt them
one last time gather
and purse and peck to kiss him back.

In the last hours, she kept
her forearms raised with pale fingers clenched
at cheek level, like
the goddess figurine over the bathroom sink.
Sometimes her right fist flicked
or spasmed toward her face. For twelve hours
until she died, he kept
scratching Jane Kenyon's big bony nose.
A sharp, almost sweet
smell began to rise from her open mouth.
He watched her chest go still.
With his thumb he closed her round brown eyes.

한글번역:  Nancy Helen Kim©

salwar kameez (*): 인도인들이 즐겨 입는 상의와 바지 세트

Pondicherry(**): 1954년까지 프랑스 식민지였던 인도 동남부에 위치한 도시

Gus(***): 부부의 애견 이름

Perkins(****): 남편 도날드의 애칭

Jane Kenyon

제인 케니언(Jane Kenyon) 은 1947년 5월 23일에 

미국 미시건주의 앤 아버에서 태어났다.

그녀는 1970년에 미시건 대학에서 문학 학사를

그리고 1972년에 문학 석사 학위를 받았다.

같은 해에 미시건 대학 재학때에 만난 시인 도날드 홀씨와 결혼했다.

결혼 후 그들은 뉴햄셔 주의 이글 폰드 팜(Eagle Pond Farm)으로 이주했다. 

Donald Hall and Jane Kenyon

그녀는 생전에 네 편의 시집을 출간했고;

 Constance (Graywolf Press, 1993), 

Let Evening Come (Graywolf Press, 1990), 

The Boat of Quiet Hours (Graywolf Press, 1986), 

and From Room to Room (Alice James Books, 1978)

한편의 번역본

Twenty Poems of Anna Akhmatova (Ally Press, 1985)을 남겼다.

그리고 그녀는 1981년에 the National Endowment 로부터

Fellowship을 받았다.

2010년 오바마 대통령으로부터 미국 예술가들에게 주어지는

최고의 훈장인 National Medal of Arts을 받고 있는 시인이자 제인의 남편 도날드 홀

1993년에 그녀와 남편 도날드 홀 씨는 

언론인 빌 모이어씨(Bill Moyer)가 제작한 도큐멘타리인

"A Life Together"에 출연했으며, 이 작품은 에미상을 수상하기도 했다.

 1995년에는 뉴햄셔주의 원로 시인으로 추대되었고,

같은 해 4월 22일, 안타깝게 47세에 백혈병으로 타계했다.