Holding a yellow chrysanthemum in the early morning
I visited the graveyard
It was the time of changing foliage, oak leaves blushing red
You did not return once you took this road
More than sad, my heart aches
White wooden grave marks
Scattered like doleful musical notes
This is the place where the empty oxcart rattles past
When dusk sprays its fearful darkness
In my heart rises
A graveyard around the corner of the hill
Pathos flutters and swirls like flower petals.
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What stood out at first was the image of the single flower being brought to the graveyard. What follows with the details is very moving, and by the end the personal grief remains unsettled since dusk sprays resurrect "fearful darkness". There is a wonderful write-up on this poet at the following site:
http://myhome.naver.com/woomi9/poem/ncm400.htm
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