어제다. 문안에 들어갔다 늦어서 나오는데 불빛 없는 성북동 길 위에는 밝은 달빛이 깁을 깐 듯하였다.
그런데 포도원께를 올라오노라니까 누가 맑지도 못한 목청으로,
“사…… 께…… 와 나…… 미다까 다메이…… 끼…… 까…….”
를 부르며 큰길이 좁다는 듯이 휘적거리며 내려왔다. 보니까 수건이 같았다. 나는,
“수건인가?”
하고 아는 체하려다 그가 나를 보면 무안해할 일이 있는 것을 생각하고 휙 길 아래로 내려서 나무 그늘에 몸을 감추었다.
그는 길은 보지도 않고 달만 쳐다보며, 노래는 그 이상은 외우지도 못하는 듯 첫 줄 한 줄만 되풀이하면서 전에는 본 적이 없었는데 담배를 다 퍽퍽 빨면서 지나갔다.
달밤은 그에게도 유감한 듯하였다.

Last night I returned late from downtown. I could see no lights as I passed through Seongbuk-dong; there was only the luxuriant moonlight brightening the road.
As I made my way up the hill near the vineyard, I heard a raspy voice.
“Sa...ke...wa...na...midaka, tamei...ki...ka.”
A man was coming down the hill. The way he swung his arms as he walked made the wide road seem narrow. I looked closer; it appeared to be Su-g?n. Knowing he would be embarrassed if I called out to him and he saw it was me, I quickly hid myself in the shade of a tree at the side of the road.
He stared up at the moon, not looking at the road, and kept repeating the same words from the song. Perhaps that first line was the only line he knew. And he was puffing away on a cigarette?something I’d never seen him do before.
To Su-g?n too, a moonlit night called forth all sorts of sentiments.