At Toriwpn

Once over, the fierce battle
was less than a rainstorm.

Burnt-out thatch-roof houses,
huts lonely, collapsed—

Today I pass by dejectedly
this village fallen into ashes.

Only one thing, with heaven's favor, still intact:
an old earthenware pot.

And my life too, I realize today,
is with me still.

One by one the people who fled this village come back,
stand on the vacant ground and look at the distant mountains

where the skies are blue as ever.
Toriwon, where in autumn's light

the sad cosmos flowers
bloom and at once fall.
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Author of original: 
Cho Chihun
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