The two threads of our story proceed independently for a long time, separated even by vast geographical distances, yet by a peculiar whim of fate, they eventually converge.
Deacon Yun Seok-ho lived in Pyongyang with his family at the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries. He had three daughters and one son. The father sold vegetables while his wife worked in a hospital; despite their modest circumstances, all their children were able to study music. Their second-born daughter, born in 1897, briefly considered following the example of the Western female doctor who led her mother’s hospital, but she ultimately chose a different path.
Yun Sim-deok was a tall, striking girl blessed with an open personality and a powerful voice. Through singing in church, her love for music grew. After graduating from a girls’ high school in education, she passed the examination required to apply for overseas scholarships. Successfully winning government support, she became the first Korean student at the Tokyo School of Music (now Tokyo University of the Arts) in 1919. However, she did not initially enroll as a vocal major, but rather in an advanced teacher training program.
In 1921, she joined the Dongwoohoe Touring Theater Company, where she performed solos during intermissions. The company toured Korea under the direction of Kim Woo-jin, while the music was managed by Hong Nan-pa, who had invited Yun to join. Although rumors tried to link the cheerful and direct girl to Hong, she paid them little mind, declaring herself an "advocate of free love."
Among the men mentioned, Kim Woo-jin is the more pivotal figure for our story. He was a talented, innovative writer and poet. Fluent in Japanese and English, he studied English literature and was well-versed in Western thought, openly sympathizing with dissident students. Alongside his diverse literary output, he is regarded as a Korean pioneer of modern theater. Born into an aristocratic family, he was forced into marriage by his father at the age of 18 and had a young son. However, he rebelled against family expectations and dreamed of traveling to Germany to continue his studies.
Yun Sim-deok returned to her homeland in 1924, where she soon achieved a stellar career as Korea’s first soprano, garnering immense popularity. However, her parents "presented the bill" for her education abroad, demanding she support them and finance her siblings' studies. Classical singing was not well-paid, so Yun worked as a teacher, performed in theater troupes, hosted radio broadcasts, and recorded albums. Out of necessity, she increasingly accepted engagements to sing popular songs, which were more lucrative.
The position of women was difficult, especially for those as free-spirited as Yun. Much like the situation of modern idols, the public was often more captivated by gossip and fabrications about her private life than by her art. Prejudices against female artists were rampant; actresses were often viewed as no different from gisaengs (courtesans). Yun’s background was attacked, and she was linked to various men and failed marriage plans. Her reputation suffered further when she was criticized for lacking talent as an actress. When a wealthy man sponsored her younger brother’s studies in America, it was rumored that Yun became his concubine in return, permanently tainting her reputation. (Surprisingly, such arrangements were not uncommon at the time among wealthy men.) Under the weight of these scandals, Yun fled Joseon and lived in Harbin for a time. However, she soon had to provide for another sibling’s tuition, leading her to sign an exclusive contract with the Japanese Nitto Record on the last day of 1925.
Ion (Iosif) Ivanovici’s waltz Valurile Dunării (The Danube Waves) performed by the Budapest Strauss Ensemble (Audio via YouTube)
The fact remains that Yun Sim-deok and Ivanovici’s waltz eventually met. In 1926, with a slightly modified melody and new lyrics, it was among the 24 songs Yun recorded for Nitto Record. Some reports suggest it wasn’t originally planned and was recorded on Yun’s sudden whim. Some suspect this backstory was merely a promotional tactic by the label, just as they doubt whether Yun truly wrote the lyrics herself, as she wasn't considered a skilled lyricist.
Before the album’s release, tragedy struck. Both Yun Sim-deok and Kim Woo-jin were around their 29th birthdays when, on August 23, 1926, they boarded a ferry bound for Busan. By the next morning, they had vanished. What truly happened remains unknown; they disappeared from the ship, leaving only their luggage behind. No suicide note was ever found. The press immediately reported a sensationalized "double love suicide," painting a romantic backdrop, while the public speculated with wild theories ranging from murder to secret survival. Whether there was truly a romantic relationship between them (which their close friends adamantly denied), whether it was an accident, or whether they committed suicide together or independently, remains a mystery to this day. Some hoped for a successful escape, fueled by the news that Yun had sent Kim a telegram threatening suicide, and he had supposedly met her to prevent it. Kim had previously helped her handle her troubles in the theater.
According to the tabloid press, this was the "first Korean love suicide," though it is worth noting that this was a trend more characteristic of modern Japan than of Joseon. Yun Sim-deok did not live to see the album’s release; Nitto Record published it two weeks after her death. The title of the waltz arrangement on the record is 사에 찬미 (Sa-ui Chan-mi), often translated loftily as "Hymn of Death" or "Ode of Death." Literally, it means "Praise of Death," but the word chan-mi was also used in the sense of music or song. Thus, the title could simply be "The Death Song"—as if eerily foreshadowing the tragedy that occurred. Its painful lyrics resonated not only with the sentiments of Japanese youth but also, as many suggest, with the nihilism of Korean youth following the failed March 1st Movement.
“Hymn of Death” performed by Yun Sim-deok (Audio via YouTube)
(Literal translation)
The record—the first Korean-language album released in Japan—sold 100,000 copies, a figure that surpassed all expectations. The record company reaped immense profits; at the time, a gramophone record cost as much as a bag of rice. Since the records were useless without a player, customers had to buy gramophones as well, further driving sales. This "album fever" infected Joseon, marking the local dawn of the recording industry. It is safe to say that Yun Sim-deok became the first star of Korean popular music.
Kim Woo-jin’s literary legacy took a different turn. After his death, he was portrayed in a negative light, primarily due to the efforts of a pro-Japanese writer named Lee Gwang-su. It took seventy years for his pioneering thought and broad vision to receive due recognition. In 2025, four of his handwritten pieces were registered as part of Korea's National Cultural Heritage.
Yun Sim-deok’s life story has seen various adaptations. The Death Song appears in countless artworks, and the number of covers is significant. The first film, Yun Sim-deok, was released in 1969; a multi-award-winning film titled Hymn of Death followed in 1991, which later served as the basis for a 2018 six-part drama.
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Poster for the 1969 biographical film of Yun Sim-deok,starring Moon Hee (Fair Use) |
Jang Mi-hee as Yun Sim-deok, and Im Sung-min as Kim Woo-jin (Fair Use)
starring Lee Jong-suk (as Kim Woo-jin) and Shin Hye-sun (as Yun Sim-deok) (Fair Use)
The song can also be heard in the film The Last Princess; among its many appearances, this one is worth highlighting because it was allegedly the favorite music of the film’s real-life protagonist, Princess Deokhye. In the series Pachinko, produced by Apple TV and released in 2022, there is also a character based on the life of Yun Sim-deok.
This blog post would end here if the song did not have Hungarian connections as well, but more on that a little later.
It is very interesting that among the famous adaptations, the Korean one is the first. The next noteworthy event occurred in 1931, when Marlene Dietrich played the melody on the piano in Josef von Sternberg’s film Dishonored.
A scene featuring Marlene Dietrich from Josef von Sternberg’s film Dishonored (Video via YouTube)
“The Anniversary Song” performed by Willie Nelson (Audio via YouTube)
Finally, let us look at the Hungarian connections.
In 1973, the second album of Hungarian singer Pál Szécsi was released. Its title track, "Egy szál harangvirág" (A Single Bellflower), is also an arrangement of Ivanovici’s melody. Szécsi wrote the lyrics himself, creating a unique Hungarian version. The song’s cheerful tone is closer to the original waltz, with no trace of depressive or sentimental moods. Nevertheless, it is hard not to notice that Yun Sim-deok (1897-1926) and Pál Szécsi (1944-1974) were granted similarly short lives.
The song “Egy szál harangvirág” performed by Pál Szécsi (Audio via YouTube)
The song “Kis csolnakom a Dunán lengedez” performed by Katalin Karády (Audio via YouTube)
In the next installment, we will continue with the first song credited to Korean creators in both its music and lyrics, as well as outline what new musical trends were beginning to emerge.






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