The morning wind blowing
From Inwangsan feels like a snowstorm,
The mid-autumn the street trees've already
Turned a deeply red form.
In the early morning, as we take
A breath, white vapor spreads,
May all the people can eat
The freedom like morning breads!
(Revised 25th., Oct.,2023)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem