Classic Poem

We fools are pleased enough
just seeing each other's faces.
Carving a melon by the barber shop,
gulping makkolli at a wine stall,
we all have old friends' faces.

Talk of drought in the southwest,
of debts to the co-op.

Tapping time with our feet
to the remedy vendor's guitar,
why do we always feel
such longing for Seoul?

Shall we find some place to play cards?
tip out our wallets
and head for the wine house?

Gathering on the school grounds
we eat pieces of dried squid
and we drink.
Gradually,
the long summer day ends
as with a pair of rubber shoes
and one salted fish,
down the moon-bright road
market limps to a close.