O-reuk. (6th Century A.D.)
Walking alone on the left bank of the river
I watched the heron seek her reedy nest.
Watching white clouds, like feathered jackets fall
Into the space between two mountain peaks,
Even my soul found respite from her cares.
Only the restless river hurried on,
Sweeping from grottoes of the mountain gorge
Down to the level rice fields of the plain,
Hurrying, hurrying ever to the ocean.
Why do you flow so swiftly, little river?
You will be lost in the blue space of the ocean
And to your mountains there is no returning.