July 9, 2014


by Jeong Ji Yong

Home, I've come home,
But not to the home I yearned for

Wild pheasants brood eggs,
And cuckoos call in season,

But it doesn't seem like it's my hometown
A cloud float over the port 

Even today when I climb alone
to the end of the mountain,
White-flecked flowers warmly smile,

While grass flutes blown in my youth
yield no sound
on parched lips, so bitter.

Home, I've come home,
But only the sky of my longing is a lofty blue