NON / FICTION

'If I Must Die,' by Refaat Alareer

6 May 2024

25 POST DESIGN. Source photograph: BOGDAN KRUPIN / PEXELS

For seven months, I have searched for the right words to describe the things I have felt, after watching the attacks on 7 October, and Israel’s subsequent indiscriminate assault on Gaza. I am a man of words, and in those seven months I’ve found that, for the first time in a long time, I am at a complete loss for what to say.

Anything I can say has already been said, most beautifully, by the Palestinian writer and professor Refaat Alareer — since murdered by the Israeli military. I can therefore offer, for now, only this feeble contribution: a translation to my other native language, Korean, of his widely shared poem, “If I Must Die.”

If I must die, 

you must live 

to tell my story 

to sell my things 

to buy a piece of cloth 

and some strings, 

(make it white with a long tail) 

so that a child, somewhere in Gaza 

while looking heaven in the eye 

awaiting his dad who left in a blaze— 

and bid no one farewell 

not even to his flesh 

not even to himself— 

sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above 

and thinks for a moment an angel is there 

bringing back love 

If I must die 

let it bring hope 

let it be a tale

내가 만약 죽어야만 할 운명이라면,

당신이나마 살아남아다오

나의 이야기를 전하기 위하여

나의 가진 것들을 팔기 위하여

천 한 장과

실 몇 줄을 사와

(하얗게, 또 꼬리도 길게 만들어다오)

가자의 어느 아이가

하늘을 똑바로 바라보며

불꽃 속으로 떠난 아버지를 기다리며— 

그 누구에게도,

타버리는 육체에게도,

본인에게도, 작별인사를 나누지 못한 아버지를 기다리며 —

당신이 만든 나의 연이 높이 나는 것을 볼 수 있도록

그리고 순간이나마, 천사가 그의 옆에 있는 것을 믿도록

사랑이 되돌아온다는 것을 믿도록

내가 죽어야만 할 운명이라면,

내 죽음이 희망을 부르길

내 죽음이 이야기가 되길

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