Korea
On the hard road of life and death
That is near our land,
You went, afraid,
Without words.
We know not where we go,
Leaves blown, scattered,
Though fallen from the same tree,
By the first winds of autumn.
Ah, I will polish the path
Until I meet you in the Pure Land.
That is near our land,
You went, afraid,
Without words.
We know not where we go,
Leaves blown, scattered,
Though fallen from the same tree,
By the first winds of autumn.
Ah, I will polish the path
Until I meet you in the Pure Land.