(Borrowing the Rhyme from the poem of Wolsan Dae-Gun)
The wind at Mangwonjeong taps and raps
Continuously on green leaves' corner.
As spring leaves, women's skirts and clothes, more
And more grow thinner.

Now, along the bank-path, hurriedly
Run to persist like crows.
But the old river, once flowing, doesn't return,
However slowly it flows.

The mist over the river feels like that a painting,
Which’s hung, out of the office,
But the seagulls and herons in the sky are naturally
Graceful, devoid of artifice.

Loud talk may claim, is their work, but the nation
Fractures, tilts and tips,
Let's not distinguish between right and wrong
From the dirty politicians lips.