The only Korean title on the album. And it sounds like 1997.
Track seven on THIS & THAT. It opens with rain and acoustic guitar.
Han (3RACHA) wrote both the lyrics and the music. It’s the only track on the album credited to a single member for both.
It’s also the only track with a Korean title. The other seven are all in English.
Stray Kids “그날 (Back Then)” — Korean Meaning & Lyrics Explained
Intro — U-ri Ga-chi U-seot-deon Nal (우리 같이 웃었던 날)
Dadadada dadada dadada dadada dada dadada dada
Dadada dada dadada dadada dadada dada dadada dada
U-ri Ga-chi U-seot-deon Nal
우리 같이 웃었던 날
The day we laughed together
Yeong-hwa-reul Teu-reo-no-ko, Seo-ro-man Bwat-deon Nal
영화를 틀어놓고, 서로만 봤던 날
The day we put on a movie and only looked at each other
Geu-nal
그날
That day
The song opens with humming. Sound before it becomes words.
Geu-nal (그날, “that day”) — it points at one specific day without saying which. A day two people recognize without explanation.
Teu-reo-no-ta (틀어놓다, “to put something on and leave it playing”) — used when you start music or video and go on doing something else. They put on a movie and didn’t watch it. They looked at each other instead.
A night where the movie wasn’t the point. Being in the same room was.
Verse 1 — Neo-mchyeo Heul-leo-beo-rin Love (넘쳐 흘러버린 Love)
Sol-jik-hi Mal-hae Geu-nyang A-mu-reon
솔직히 말해 그냥 아무런
Honestly, there’s simply no
I-yu Eop-ji Sa-rang-e Dae-ha-yeo
이유 없지 사랑에 대하여
Reason when it comes to love
Eo-ri-go Jak-eun I Mam-e Neo-mchyeo
어리고 작은 이 맘에 넘쳐
Overflowing this young and little heart
Heul-leo-beo-rin I Ma-neun Geon Love
흘러버린 이 많은 건 love
All of this that spilled over is love
It states upfront that love has no reason.
Then it calls the heart young and small. Too much love came into that small container, so it overflows and spills.
Neo-mchi-da (넘치다, “to overflow”) and heu-reu-da (흐르다, “to flow”) sit right next to each other. The song doesn’t explain the feeling. It turns it into liquid.
Contemporary K-pop often routes love through images of addiction, speed, or confidence. This is simpler. Water in a container.
Verse 1 (continued) — A-ri-tta-un I Nol-i (아리따운 이 놀이)
Ja-ra-na Beo-rin A-i-ga Doe-eo
자라나 버린 아이가 되어
Becoming a child who has grown up
Ne Gyeot-e-seo I Bam-eul Ji-sae-wo eh oh
네 곁에서 이 밤을 지새워 eh oh
I stay up through this night beside you
Neo-ui Jak-eun Mi-so An-e Beon-ji
너의 작은 미소 안에 번지
Spreading inside your small smile
A-ri-tta-un I Nol-i
아리따운 이 놀이
This lovely game
E-seo Neo-wa Pyeong-saeng Ppa-jyeo-na-ga-gi Si-reo woah
에서 너와 평생 빠져나가기 싫어 woah
I never want to escape this with you for the rest of my life
One word shifts the whole period feel of the song.
A-ri-tta-un (아리따운, “lovely/graceful”) — it means beautiful, but Koreans rarely use it in everyday conversation now. It sits naturally in poetry and older songs.
And love gets called a game. A game he never wants to leave, for life.
No irony. No slang deflection. It simply says that when you love someone, you want to stay there forever.
Pre-Chorus — Myeot-baek-man Beon-jjeum Tto Si-deu-reo-do (몇백만 번쯤 또 시들어도)
Nae Pyeong-saeng-ui Ban-eul Ne-ge-ro
내 평생의 반을 네게로
Half of my life, to you
Neo-ui Kko-chi Myeot-baek-man Beon-jjeum Tto Si-deu-reo-do oh
너의 꽃이 몇백만 번쯤 또 시들어도 oh
Even if your flowers wither millions of times
Sae-ro-un Hyang-eul Da-si Meo-geum-go
새로운 향을 다시 머금고
Taking in a new fragrance again
Deo Chan-ran-han Kko-cheul Ne Mam-e Pi-wo Jul-ge
더 찬란한 꽃을 네 맘에 피워 줄게
I’ll make an even more radiant flower bloom in your heart
Millions of times.
It has nothing to do with realistic time. Nobody lives long enough to watch flowers wither millions of times.
Which is exactly why it fits. The song doesn’t scale emotion down to something plausible.
Meo-geum-da (머금다, “to hold something inside”) — holding water, a scent, or tears within. It reads more naturally in writing than in speech.
The flower withers, takes in a new fragrance, and blooms brighter. Not a promise to prevent the withering. A promise to keep making it bloom again.
Chorus — Geu Yeo-reum-ui I-reum-eun Seol-lem-i-eot-da (그 여름의 이름은 설렘이었다)
U-ri Ga-chi U-seot-deon Nal
우리 같이 웃었던 날
The day we laughed together
Yeong-hwa-reul Teu-reo-no-ko
영화를 틀어놓고
We put on a movie
Seo-ro-man Bwat-deon Nal
서로만 봤던 날
The day we only looked at each other
Geu-nal (oh yeah)
그날 (oh yeah)
That day
Bu-teo-yeot-eot-deon Geot Ga-ta
부터였었던 것 같아
I think it started from then
Neo-wa Si-jak-haet-deon Geu Yeo-reum-ui I-reum-eun Seol-lem-i-eot-da
너와 시작했던 그 여름의 이름은 설렘이었다
The name of that summer I began with you was seollem
The most Korean sentence in the song lands at the end.
Seol-lem (설렘) — the lift in your chest right before something good begins. Not exclusive to romance, but it’s the word Korean reaches for most often when love is starting.
And the lyric doesn’t say he felt seollem. It says the summer’s name was seollem.
A season gets a name. What he remembers isn’t the date the relationship started. The entire summer carries one emotion as its name.
Verse 2 — U-ri-ga Man-deu-reo Naen I Ba-da (우리가 만들어 낸 이 바다)
We’re the night yeah
We’re the light yeah
We’re so bright babe
We’re the sky
U-ri-ga Man-deu-reo Naen I Ba-da-ui Emerald
우리가 만들어 낸 이 바다의 에메랄드
The emerald of this sea that we created
Shine so bright Neo-wa Na
Shine so bright 너와 나
Shine so bright, you and me
English runs longer here.
But the vocabulary stays plain. Night, light, bright, sky. No slang, no cultural references. Set against the other tracks on this album, the difference is obvious.
The key image returns to Korean. The sea that we created. Not a sea given as backdrop — a space the two of them made.
Verse 2 (continued) — Mo-rae-a-ri But-eo Mom-e Jin-deuk-i (모래알이 붙어 몸에 진득이)
Han-yeo-reum-ui Tteu-geo-un I Ba-ram-i
한여름의 뜨거운 이 바람이
This hot midsummer wind
Mo-rae-a-ri But-eo Mom-e Jin-deuk-i
모래알이 붙어 몸에 진득이
Grains of sand sticking thickly to the body
Son-eul Jap-go walking
손을 잡고 walking
Holding hands, walking
Ba-da Su-yeong-hae jumping
바다 수영해 jumping
Swimming in the sea, jumping
With you I feel like
Gu-reum Han Jeom Ga-chi feel free
구름 한 점 같이 feel free
Feel free, like a single cloud
The abstract sea turns into texture.
Jin-deuk-i (진득이, “stickily”) — clinging in a way that won’t come off. Not a pretty word. It carries the actual discomfort of sand on damp skin.
Which is what makes the scene live. Not a color-corrected summer beach. Hot, wet, sand sticking. And it’s a good memory.
Summer sea, a walk hand in hand, a room with a movie playing. Nothing happens. Which is how it becomes “that day.”
What Does “A-ri-tta-un” (아리따운) Mean in “Back Then”?
A-ri-tta-un (아리따운) means beautiful, graceful, lovely.
But a Korean today rarely looks at someone and says arittaun saram-ine (아리따운 사람이네, “what a lovely person”). The word belongs to poetry, literature, and older songs.
Translate a-ri-tta-un i nol-i (아리따운 이 놀이) as “this beautiful game” and the meaning survives while the sense of time attached to the word disappears.
The song is full of choices like this. Arittaun. Meogeumgo. Seollem. Jindeuki.
None of them are difficult or archaic. Every Korean knows all of them. But compared to the language K-pop usually reaches for now, these sit noticeably further inside Korean.
What Does “Seol-lem” (설렘) Mean in “Back Then”?
Seol-lem (설렘) is the state of your heart lifting just before something good begins.
Waiting for a first date. The night before a trip. A message from someone you like. Anticipation with a little tension mixed in.
English gives you excitement or butterflies, and both carry about half of it. Seollem contains a sense that something is about to start.
And the song doesn’t say he felt it. Neo-wa si-jak-haet-deon geu yeo-reum-ui i-reum-eun seol-lem-i-eot-da (너와 시작했던 그 여름의 이름은 설렘이었다) — the name of that summer was seollem.
A season gets named. The day they laughed. The day they watched each other instead of the movie. The beach they walked with sand on their skin. Bundle those memories together and the name left over is seollem.
It never calls that summer love. It remembers it as the state just before love.
Why Does Stray Kids’ “Back Then” Sound So Different?
One thing first. There’s no confirmed statement from Han that he set out to make a retro track.
Still, this song stands apart on THIS & THAT.
Starting with the title. Seven tracks in English, and this one is 그날.
The English share is low. And when English does appear, it stays simple — night, light, sky, walking, jumping. Compare that to “Way Out,” which says goodbye in four languages, or “FARMING,” which runs on gaming vocabulary.
Every word carrying emotional weight is Korean. Arittaun, meogeumgo, seollem, jindeuki. Words you wouldn’t reach for if you were writing with translation in mind.
The imagery works the same way. Summer sea. Sand on skin. Two people staying up all night. A room where the screen is on and neither of them is watching it.
1990s Korean pop is often remembered as a golden age for the domestic music industry. Ballads, dance music, and idol culture all expanded rapidly, and that era helped build the base from which K-pop later grew outward.
The love songs of that period rarely shrank their emotions. Forever, for life, until the end of the world — they said those things directly.
Neo-ui kko-chi myeot-baek-man beon-jjeum tto si-deu-reo-do (너의 꽃이 몇백만 번쯤 또 시들어도) uses exactly that grammar. No deflection into contemporary phrasing. It says the big thing straight.
The props that period’s music videos and youth dramas kept returning to are all here too. Summer beach, sand, a walk together, a television in a room. Two people in the same place with nothing in particular happening.
There was a time before K-pop calculated for a global audience from the first line — when songs delivered feeling in Korean, to Koreans. To my ear, this track sounds like it went back to that grammar.
What Is Stray Kids’ “그날 (Back Then)” Really About?
The title is already past tense. That day.
But it isn’t a song grieving a lost love. It’s closer to pulling out one summer from memory and naming, late, what the feeling had been.
The day they laughed together. The day they put on a movie and watched each other. The beach they walked with sand stuck to their skin.
The name of that summer was seollem.
Its position on the album is clear. “After You” catches the moment love begins, in present tense. “Way Out” pushes away a relationship that has gone cold. “그날” sits somewhere between them and remembers the best part.
And the track holding that memory is the only one on the album with a Korean title.
The album is called THIS & THAT — this and that. Among all of it, there’s this one song. Korean ahead of English, sounding older than it is, looking for a long time at a summer day where nothing happened.
THIS & THAT is an eight-track album. More breakdowns from it:
Stray Kids “RUN IT” — From a Small Room to the World
Stray Kids “This & That” — Why They Refuse to Pick One
Stray Kids “After You” — The “You” Might Not Be a Person
Stray Kids “FARMING” — The Meme, the Grind, and a Work Song
Stray Kids “I Do” — A Wedding Vow Rewritten for Pain
Stray Kids “Way Out” — The Coldest Track on the Album
NCT 127 built an entire song out of fire — from a wick and ember to a burning glacier:
NCT 127 “BLINGY” — From an Ember to a Burning Glacier
ATEEZ put a Korean chili pepper between a Cuban cigar and Spanish fuego:
ATEEZ “BAD” — Where Cheongyang Chili Meets a Latin Rhythm
Is there a K-Pop song that clearly means something more — but you can’t tell what? Drop it in the comments and I’ll break it down.
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