On The Han-Nam Hill Poem by Tengre Asasiun Gurun Tengre

The subway train was crammed by the passengers to the Hill.
The people held Taegeug flags and Stars and Stripes
Winter wind is blowing and the air is chill
Under the weak ray. In the sleeves, the river wind sipes.

The old and young, they meet first but be the one
Under the same aim, and are shouting "strop the steal"
For our sovereignty. Long time the Red Chinese had done
Something in this country. But ‘cause of the traitors, we didn't feel.

But now we begin to realize that freedom is at the stake
They're singing, together which titled, "hand in hand",
It's the Olympic song at eighty eight, no brake,
It's echoing to the hills and spreading the end of this land.

In deep night, they won't go their home, glowing are the red lights
On their hands, and the excitement's thawing the winter night
And as the time, growing is shout and losing are the streetlights.
The moon is setting and the next morn, freedom'll bright.