I wanted to write you a poem

before you depart on your long journey,

But the tears flow before I could begin.

A man's hundred years is like a traveler's inn;

In the end, which direction my hometown lies in?

Pieces of cloud come out of mountain caves,

The sun sets at the edge of the long rivers.

Though we try to hold onto man's works,

From a distance, everything is sorrow.

- By Ven. Gyeonheo Seongu