-In Memory of the Air-Force Pilot, the Father Myung-Ryul Park, and his Son In-Chul Park…
The hillside is dusky when the sun set in the west,
The riverbank the road lights flash on the dandy creased
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In early morning, whenever open the eyes,
It flows that the unrecoverable old stories, suddenly.
The autumn airs are whirling like the spring tides,
The regrets and sorrows surges upon to me.
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Dong-Ju, Yoon
On the night of the day when I came back
At same room, my skeleton was running after and lying
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Dong-Ju, Yoon
The white washcloth is wrapped the black brains.
The white rubber shoes are hung on the rough feet.
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Sah-Eon, Yang
Even the Tae-mountain is high,
But the limit is the sky.
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At dawn, through the open window embrace,
Whispers of weeping voices reach to my bed.
But down the park, to the grove I tread, where
The chorus of insects' hushes, silence spread.
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Sihn-Kyung Lee
The innate modesty, maybe is it the order
Of the heaven? To the earth, it is the colder,
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Hyung-Sig, Kim
All things,
There are not that not these things.
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There is a long way in front of thee,
And thou must go the way at alone.
Thy family can help but not with thee.
Thou must go the way with the legs by thy own.
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