Photo/Illutration Seoul is devastated in 1952 during the Korean War. (Asahi Shimbun file photo)

This happened during a reporting trip to Pyongyang, the capital of North Korea, sometime in the early 2000s, before then-Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi made his historic visit to the country.

One evening, I went out with a group of North Korean government officials, including my interpreter, to a bar—a lounge reserved exclusively for foreigners, duly outfitted with karaoke machines.

The dimly lit lounge was nearly empty, with only a few other patrons scattered around. After some time, an elderly man with gray hair seated beside us struck up a conversation.

“Are you a reporter from Japan?” he asked.

He explained that he was a first-generation Korean resident of Japan, visiting his homeland for a relative’s wedding. He seemed slightly intoxicated.

“Do you know this song?” he asked, picking up the microphone. “Where did that departing boat go? My yearning beloved.”

The melody was hauntingly melancholic. As he sang, tears welled in his eyes. Before finishing the song, he fell silent.

The officials and I watched quietly, unable to speak. The moment had become too heavy for words.

The song was titled “Namida ni Nureta Tomanko” (Tear-stained Tumen River)—a sorrowful ballad born during Japan’s colonial rule over Korea (1910-1945). It speaks of longing for a loved one separated by fate.

As I listened, I couldn’t help but wonder: Did this man, too, have someone dear to him he could no longer meet?

After we left the bar, my young female interpreter suddenly spoke, her voice was low but filled with anger.

“Why wasn’t it Japan?” she asked, her eyes sharp and unflinching. “Japan lost the war. So why was it Korea that ended up divided, instead of Japan?”

I had no words in response.

June 25 marks 75 years since the start of the Korean War, which began in 1950 and ended in 1953not with peace, but with an armistice—leaving the two Koreas still technically at war.

My thoughts turn to those who remain separated by the arbitrary fault lines of history.

Three-quarters of a century have passed beneath the heavy weight of division. And still, the war has not truly ended.

—The Asahi Shimbun, June 25

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Vox Populi, Vox Dei is a popular daily column that takes up a wide range of topics, including culture, arts and social trends and developments. Written by veteran Asahi Shimbun writers, the column provides useful perspectives on and insights into contemporary Japan and its culture.