To the Readers
Readers. I am ashamed to set myself up as a poet before you. I know as you read my poems you will be disappointed in me and for yourselves.
I have no mind for your children to read my poems.
To read my poems then might well be like rubbing a bit of dry chrysanthemum in your fingers and holding them up to your nose in a flowering glade in late spring.
I don't know how far the night has advanced.
As the darkness thins in Mt. Sorak
I wait for the bell of a dawning day as I put my brush aside.
(The night of the 29th day, 8th month, the year of Ulch'uk. The End)
I have no mind for your children to read my poems.
To read my poems then might well be like rubbing a bit of dry chrysanthemum in your fingers and holding them up to your nose in a flowering glade in late spring.
I don't know how far the night has advanced.
As the darkness thins in Mt. Sorak
I wait for the bell of a dawning day as I put my brush aside.
(The night of the 29th day, 8th month, the year of Ulch'uk. The End)
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