I went to a Leonia Park with grandchildren
I was busy playing with them
At some point
I noticed an unfamiliar child
Looking up at me and smiling
The child was wearing shabby clothes
had unkempt hair,
sunburned cheeks
Despite my own worn-out
I smiled at the child as a gratitude
The child began to follow us and played together
The view of the child
struggling to lift Samuel is
indescribable in words
Soon after someone called out "Irene!"
Irene came back with a piece of cookie in the left hand
and placed it in Samuel's right hand
I called Irene and gave two oranges and yogurt
for Irene to eat them
Irene enjoyed the first drinks
Irene took them back to parents
This time as well
I didn't watch Irene go back to them to the end
Before long darkness fell
I left for home with the children
and Irene's gaze in my heart.

Value symbols, but don't become a symbolist.
Value images, but don't become an image-oriented person.
Value form, but don't become a formalist.
Value facts, but don't become a realist.
Value philosophy, but don't become a demagogue.
Value the invisible, but don't become a religious fanatic.
Value resistance, but don't become a revolutionary.
Value romance, but do not become a romantic.
Value history, but do not become a historian.
Value leadership, but do not become a dictator.
Value intelligence, but do not become an intellectual.
Value liberation, but do not become a surrealist.
Value ethnicity, but do not become a nationalist.
Value freedom, but do not become a liberal.
Value equality, but do not become an egalitarian.
No matter how valuable it may be, do not express it as an ideology.
That does not mean you should become a decadent.

Today I went to a Leonia Park with grandchildren. I was busy playing with them. at some point I noticed an unfamiliar child looking up at me and smiling. The child was wearing shabby clothes, had unkempt hair, sunburned cheeks. But that was so lovely like a gem in the mud but another child with nice clothes, well-groomed hair, and sun-kissed cheeks can never possess it. despite my own worn-out smile, I smiled back at the child as a gesture of gratitude. Then the child began to follow us and played together. especially the view of the child struggling to lift Samuel and trying to place him on a horse saddle or staircase is indescribable in words. Then I saw the child's back as she returned to parents. soon after someone called out "Irene" so I thought the child's name is Irene. Irene came over with a cookie in the left hand and placed it in Samuel's hand and then returned to them. I imagine they might be crying somewhere in the playground. I called Irene and gave two oranges and yogurt, gesturing for Irene to eat them. Irene enjoyed the first few drinks and then took them back to them. This time too, I didn't watch Irene go back to them until the end. Before long, darkness fell and I left for home with the children and Irene's gaze in my heart.

even if it's boring
write
even if you don't feel moved
as you write
you will find it.

When I look at the clock
I realize that time passes quickly
and it is precious

Let's live with a sense of time.

Don't get angry about things
that interfere with
your writing
Poetry is hidden
within them.

Today, I went to a nearby playground park with grandchildren for a change. I was busy playing with the children when, at some point, I noticed an unfamiliar child looking up at me and smiling. The child was wearing shabby clothes, had unkempt hair, and cheeks sunburned from the sun. But that smile was so beautiful—like a gem hidden in the mud, something that children with nice clothes, well-groomed hair, and sun-kissed cheeks could never possess. So, despite my own worn-out smile, I smiled back at the child as a gesture of gratitude. Then the child began to follow us and play together. Especially the sight of the child struggling to lift my second son, Samuel, and trying to place him on a horse saddle or staircase is indescribable in words. Then we saw the child’s back as he returned to his parents. Soon after, someone called out “Iren,” so I think the child’s name was Iren. Iren came over with a cookie in her hand, placed it in Samuel’s hand, and then returned to parents. I didn’t look at the parents. I thought they might be crying somewhere in the playground. So I called Iren over and gave her two oranges and yogurt, gesturing for her to eat them. She enjoyed the first few bites and then took them back to her parents. This time too, I didn’t watch Iren go back to them until the end. Before long, darkness fell, and we began to take the children home.