Wet Firewood
Kwon Young-Eui /Translated by Hyung Don Yun
The day gesturing from a distance
that autumn is gone
Morning expecting a farewell
with cold dew and composed glance
I sing a song of praise
on a sheet of latter paper
Ice like a glass lens of eyeglasses
getting accumulated at the place
where fallen leaves dropped
song of maple still remained
into the cold dew
it comes the day of sleeping together
The sound of song that you sing
remaining just a long echo
disappeared without any trace
passionate mind looking at the departing spot
sings a prelude of life
that should be sung of its own.
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