Dong-Ju, Yoon
From where do the winds showed
Up, to where do the winds are called.
In the blowing wind
There is no reason for suffering to my mind.
Maybe, is there really no reason for my suffering?
Never I've loved a lass.
Never I've grieved for the times.
In the wind blowing constantly,
On the rock, I'm standing with my feet.
The river flowing unceasingly.
On the hill, I'm standing with my feet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem