(via charethcutestory)
translated by David R. McCann When you leave, weary of me, without a word I shall gently let you go. From Mt. Yak in Yongbyon I shall gather armfuls of azaleas and scatter them on your way. Step by step on the flowers placed before you tread lightly, softly as you go. When you leave weary of me, though I die, I'll not let one tear fall.