Wasted Years
On the cresting wave
of swirling dance—
Deong-deong, deong-deo-koong—
each breath drawn in
like wind before a storm.

The shiver runs,
yet the face stays still,
unchanging,
guarding grace
as if virtue itself.

You are me, I am you
beneath the moonlight’s hush.
Deong-deong, deong-deo-koong.

Under silver beams,
a sorrow is released—
a han* too heavy to hold,
echoing through
Namdo’s endless road.
Deong-deong, deong-deo-koong.

Sweat falls
like monsoon rain,
and joy—
that fierce, fiery joy—
rises through the bones,
burning quiet grief
buried in broken shells,

turning pain
into firelight,
into signal flame.
Deong-deong, deong-deo-koong.

And all are smiling
as they cross
beyond the village ridge,
to where old sorrows
dance no more.

© TaeHun Yoon
– June 25, 1983

📝 Note:
Han (한) – A unique Korean word, han is a deep emotional current of sorrow, endurance, unresolved pain, and hope. It lives silently in the soul and is often carried through generations. The word is retained here to preserve its untranslatable.