"Paan" — by Ko Jae-jong
Out to the village tavern,
I lay down a mere 5,000 won —
three bottles of soju,
one pot of tofu stew.
Five wrinkled elders
share it among themselves,
faces all flushed rosy,
ha ha ha,
ha ha ha,
what a feast we've been given!
The word paan carries a charm that works against expectation. As a rule, any word containing the character pa (破), meaning "to break," comes out damaged. Patan (ruin), pagyeong (a broken marriage), pagye (breaking monastic vows), paryeomchi (shamelessness) — all of them dark and heavy. Yet when pa, which shatters whatever it touches, meets an (顔), the character for a person's face, something changes. All at once the word turns bright and cheerful. An object that breaks becomes useless, but a human face, the more it breaks into laugh lines, makes both its owner and the person across from it happy. A face grows solemn the more it stays unbroken and intact. That is exactly what a straight face is. When the laughter is withdrawn and the wrinkles smooth out, the air between people goes cold. Better to break a face often and often than a gourd bowl. That a mere 5,000 won could set five wrinkled elders roaring with laughter — the value for money lies not only in the drink and the food but in the plainness of their hearts.
