Inhaling the chilly mist of the distant dusk,
along the silent stretching mountain slope,
the train comes crawling.
Rumbling, rumbling,
today again the bridge is groaning something.
Well, Spring has come like a thief by that train
without even a warning telegram.
And with her tender motherly voice
is waking the streams locked in sleep in valleys……
The red-faced smiling sun is busy now
strewing his parting kisses here and there
on the languishing eye-lids of dusk.
Enwrapped in pale-blue smoke, the poplars stand in row
on the white bank of the afternoon, outspread like linen,
and are smoking like idle loafers.
O Spring!
Though I do not recall you meeting me
beside some riverbank to make me promises,
I am yet expecting something grand of you.
So again I turn today, with hoem on shoulder, and watch
the train crawling by the silent stretching mountain-side,
inhaling the chilly mist of the distant dusk.
(Kim Ki-Rim)
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Based on Topics: Sleep Poems, Spring Poems, Promise PoemsBased on Keywords: inhaling, enwrapped, telegram, red-faced, riverbank, pale-blue