In the midst of the night
the stars are extremely bright.
The first frost of the year
has fallen in the valley.

The wild pear leaves are so
heavy with ripe fruit,
that those passing by
are intoxicated by the sight.

The passing wind turns into
the sound of a flute,
and the night is getting
deeper.

The lengthening shadows
cast by the mountain
crowd together at the
Inn below.

The footsteps of the mail carrier
who is pushing the mail cart
contains the breath of
peoples’ affection.

At the Bo Kwang temple
of the Ko Ryung mountains,
the burning Autumn leaves
soak the hem of my clothing.

With rosy cheeks and warm heart,
My girl ­

Right now,
at which road are you asking
for a moment to rest, drunk
from the longing?