For centuries, in Korea, poetry was never just writing, but voice, rhythm, body, an act pronounced even before being fixed on the page, and only the twentieth century – with the arrival of Western culture, the affirmation of printing and the progressive separation between word and sound – imposed that fracture which placed poetry on one side and music on the other, a division which, for the Professor Choi Donghodoes not belong to the profound nature of Korean culture, but to a precise historical passage that has changed the very way in which language has been thought and experienced.
It is from this fracture, and from the questions that it reopens today on the relationship between word, voice and technology, that it develops this exclusive conversation with Professor Choi Donghoone of the most authoritative institutional figures of South Korean culture. It is Choi himself who identifies its origin and describes its consequences, explaining that «in Korea the separation between poetry and song began in the 20th century with the influx of Western culture and was closely linked to the rise of typographical culture», but that at the same time «in the 21st century, with the advent of digital culture and the possibility of freely creating moving images, we have entered an era in which poetry and song are becoming one again».
The point, he clarifies, is not nostalgia, but rather the very survival of poetic language, because «if poetry fails to overcome the printed page and adapt to the digital and visual era, it risks remaining trapped in the past, confined to an analogue sensitivity and incapable of reflecting the cultural sense of a new era», while Korean poetry, precisely because of its sung origins, «possesses an intrinsic strength capable of guiding the dynamic transformations of the digital era».
Professor Choi Dongho is an institutional voice of Korean culture
This vision is not formulated by a peripheral observer, but by one of the most authoritative institutional figures of South Korean culture. The professor Choi Dongho is a member of National Academy of Arts of the Republic of Koreaprofessor emeritus and former dean of the Graduate School of Korea University, professor at Kyungnam University, poet, literary critic and poetry theorist. His most recent reflections converge in Anthology of Contemporary Korean 4-line Poetrypublished by The Bard’s Notebooks Editions by Stefano Donnoan anthology that accompanies his lecture at MIT in Boston dedicated to the future of poetry in the digital age and which relaunches the short form as a space of maximum expressive intensity.
Four-line poetry as a form of the present
To understand the meaning of the four-line poem, Choi first invites us to reconsider the yesoften interpreted as a simple written form, clarifying that «the sijo was not what today we mean by written poetry, but a form of performance, a form of singing», and that for this very reason «the fact that Korean singers today are active at the top of the global scene is also the result of this original vocal tradition». This is where the sahaengsibecause «if we consider the sijo as a three-line poem, the sahaengsi can be seen as its expansion».
What also makes this evolution possible is the linguistic specificity of Korean, which Choi clearly distinguishes from other Asian languages: «although I have a profound interest in Japanese haiku, the Korean language, unlike Japanese, has its own rhythms, breathing and methods of vocal emission», a uniqueness that «allows Korean to resonate particularly effectively with the advanced musical forms of the digital age».
K-pop, opera and poetic continuity
It is by following this trajectory that Professor Choi places K-pop within a broader poetic and cultural continuity. When the conversation turns to contemporary popular music, Choi clarifies that he has directly observed this phenomenon, explaining that «K-pop lyrics contain not only a strong sense of the present time, but also a depth of poetic reflection», and that «an important reason for their success lies precisely in this, because beyond the ephemeral language of fashion, the songs contain a solid foundation of poetic thought».
Their role, he adds, goes beyond traditional categories: «in this sense, they can be considered creators who operate beyond the traditional boundaries of poetry and the poet», also because «they use digital media instead of the printed book, which is in itself a characteristic of our time», and above all because «as complete artists, capable of poetry, song and dance, they transcend the conventional domain through which we have long understood poetry».
Idol, collective anxiety and the consolatory function of the word
According to Choi Dongho, this transformation has a profound emotional function, especially for young generations, and the professor recognizes that «idols articulate collective anxiety, identity and emotional pressure in a language understandable to a global audience», but also underlines that «for young generations who have lost solid spiritual or psychological foundations, their language and songs can function as messages of consolation and hope». It is precisely in this dynamic that Choi also sees a possibility for poetry itself, because «in the way in which these words alleviate the anxiety and desperation of the new generations, we can glimpse a hope, that poets too can transmit messages of hope to those in search of their own identity».
Historical trauma and poetic resilience
Modern Korean poetry was born within a history marked by colonialism, war and dictatorship, and for Choi Dongho trauma is not a wound to be removed, but a generative force. As he states, “the trauma experienced by Koreans in the 20th century instilled a deep resilience in the Korean spirit,” teaching one to “look to the sky and find the stars in the darkest nights of history.” The greater the historical trials, he explains, “the stronger became the will to overcome them and transform them into poetic energy”, and it is this strength that also permeates contemporary popular music, capable of arousing empathy “not only among those who bear historical trauma, but also among young people from all over the world who are looking for new directions”.
Brevity as extreme density
For Choi Dongho, simplicity never equates to expressive poverty, because «simplicity acquires strength only when it is highly dense, while otherwise the language risks becoming insignificant or losing its distinctive value». His metaphor is technological and unequivocal: «the density of simplicity is similar to that of a highly integrated microchip», and this is why «a de-constructive, verbose and messy poem is not in accordance with the spirit of the digital age». Compressed images, strengthened by repetition, “are deeply imprinted on the human brain”, and “the deeper the imprint, the stronger the emotional response”, a technique that poetry has always used, but which “contemporary artists know how to use even more effectively”.
MIT and the border between human and machine
Urged on the meaning of bringing these reflections to a symbolic place of science and algorithms like the MIT in BostonChoi Dongho says he was struck by the fact that “MIT strongly emphasizes liberal arts education, requiring students to take at least eight courses in this area,” as well as by engineering students’ interest in Eastern literature, a sign of a deep desire to understand “the fundamental sources of human intelligence.” When, at the end of the lecture, someone asks him if the four-line poem is not regressive, the answer is clear: “the sahaengsi infused with digital concepts is fundamentally different from previous forms”, and is “closely linked to the daily sensitivity of the smartphone era”, so much so that it should be considered “not a regression, but an advanced poetic form”. In this sense, he concludes, “poetry is placed exactly on the border where the human being and the machine meet.”
Translation, language and sound
On the topic of translation, Choi Dongho offers a reflection that looks to the future, explaining that «in a future phase a significant part of poetic transmission will probably be entrusted to automatic translation», but that for this very reason «transmitting the poem directly in Korean could get closer to the original voice». He says that during international readings “audiences often ask for poems to be read directly in Korean”, driven by the desire to hear new and unknown sounds, and concludes with the belief that “the power of condensed emotion can break down linguistic barriers and directly reach global audiences”.
The future of Korean poetry as a global force
Choi Dongho’s final gaze opens onto world literature, with the belief that “Korean poetry will make a decisive leap and lead world literature”, in a context in which “the dominant trends of Anglo-American and European literature have weakened”, while new voices emerge. Korea, he observes, has “a historical experience and a way of thinking profoundly different from those of China and Japan”, capable of offering the world a still unexplored imagination, so much so that “even in Hollywood today there is talk of a lack of new stories”. It is for this reason, he concludes, that “the philosophy and experience accumulated by the Korean people for thousands of years are attracting attention as new and disruptive terrain”, marking the moment in which Korean poetry can also be recognized as living cultural forcecapable of crossing music, technology and language, remembering – even in the age of algorithms – what makes human beings human.
