If I were a bird;
I should also sing with a hoarse throat:
The land was hit by a storm;
This river will always flow with our sadness and anger;
This angry wind blows endlessly;
And the gentle dawn from the forest ...
-then I died;
Even feathers rot in the ground.
Why do I often cry?
Because I love this land deeply. ...
2. The pond in winter
Pond in winter;
Lonely as an old man's heart—
A painstaking effort that has experienced the world;
Pond in winter;
As dry as an old man's eyes—
Worn by hard work;
Pond in winter;
As barren as an old man's hair—
Hair is as thin and gray as frost grass.
Pond in winter;
As gloomy as a sad old man—
An old man hunched his back under a gloomy sky.