The endless great green plain,
with challenging eyes, he told me to come over
by throwing away a sense of distance.
　

Looking at the Mt. Inzan,
I wonder where the valley is
holding the Temjin's big pot.
　

I stare at the winter hill where every flower is dead,
but I believe I can endure because I've seen a lot.
　

The transparent sunbeams shines
on a desolate huge lofty rock at Inzan,
A piece of love is a yellow poppy.
　

All the trees, soils are swelling,
above all, vibrant water rushes.