14 August 2012

A romanticism of Koguryo

Aroma of mountains in my nostalgia.
Voices of cicada echoed to my heart.
Aroma of summer.

Wind of sea.
Sadness perpetuated and hidden at heart,
Though one resumed living a normal life,
Was engraved at the depth of life,
And handed over and over to generations.

Though I knew nothing about what had happened in reality,
The sound of wind from sea,
Aroma of summer day,
Made me tremble in the depth of my heart and
Tears came up in my eyes.

In a room in classical European style,
I was surrounded by the warmth of wood.
Through white lace curtains
I saw the view over the window.
The sound of cicada echoed everywhere and to the mountain.
Spontaneously I have hidden the grievances in my heart
That were about to burst out
And I still remained watching the outside.

Aroma of a summer day.
The light-scape of an ancient time.
The time has come to tell the truth.
I anticipated that the door of the secret was about to open,
That I had once locked its key.
Light has reached to my heart that has been frozen so far.