Sang-Cheol, Han
The Crescent is hung on the acute peak, Diana dropped a fine-toothed-comb.
At night, a mountain-daughter-in-law, climbs the rock for picking up the comb,
The end of the cliff, plucking the diamond blue bell flowers at midnight, and turning on as the head light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem