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The Fall

The leaves are falling by the fall winds' blowing
Our lives are withering as the season's going.
 

The Rose of Sharon

It rained hard last night,
And heard the blowing of the wind.
In the morn, it’s full of the light.
The petals were scatted by the wind.
 
The roses of Sharon were torn.
The twigs were broken to litters.
Some left flowers were worn
Out were dangling like tatters.
 
Afraid if the tree were dead,
Never see again, the flowers,
Only, I did to spread
And sweep the twigs for viewers.
 
Morrow, the sun rises again
With joy, the buds are blooming.
Never I forget, they’ll remain
In my heart ever-blooming.
 

The old landscape

The landscape of the old days when I had lived in the country,
Fifty year has passed, sometimes, it reminds me like the yesterday
Now, I can hear the fall drops and it feels to me like the poetry.
Sometimes I can smell the old when I see the drops in rainy day
 
At noon, the bees across the brooks are flying and buzzing,
At night, from the milky way, the stars come down and whispering.
In the morning, school-boys go to the school with back packing.
At the afternoon, the boys are coming back with cows at the sun setting.
 
In Early Spring, it snowed in large flakes on the bloomed azaleas.
It went well, to the Violet and white hills, but the sun sent his rays.
In late Autumn, on the mountain hills, there were the wild-achilleas
At night, the wind breathed, the petals were scattered on the ways.
 
The old landscape calls me to become, nigher and nigher.
The summer rain-drops sing and call me with hitting the windowpane.
But I know, going to the landscape, only I’ll be a new stranger,
Yearning and hatred are not the other word, I recite to the old lane.
 

Han River

I go up slowly the hills at nights.
Hitting the cheeks and the mild wind blows.
The road on the way, turned off the lights.
Without the words, the river flows.
 
Along the river, the road lights twinkle,
And look like the endless milky-way.
On the bank, like birds some wagons sprinkle
The lights with rushing the late and dark way.
 
In the sky, the pinwheel-like stars round the pole.
In dark, the river flows the time.
In the morn, the sun rises for doin’ his role,
Again, people wake up and go as the chime.
 
Ten thousand years the river
Flows with the people who live in by,
Henceforth for a long time, it together
With the sons who are and to be, nearby.
 

The Lawmaking

The ignorant congressmen quarrel for making the law.
In the assembly, in every day, they make laws like the summer verdure
I really wonder if they once read or not when they draw.
The new laws newly stress the people, it is difficult for them to endure.
 

The tears of the Baig-Je

The surrendered king was captive and mounted the subduer’s ship.
Already, many peoples gathered on the quay for seeing off a king.
The poor king looked around and shed the tears, and with tide, he started the long trip.
Thenceforth, the peoples have made the wine awaiting the poor king.