When you hate to see me  
And decide to leave,  
I’ll quietly let you go.

I’ll pluck an armful of azaleas  
In the Yaksan hills at Yungbyun  
To strew over your path.  
Tread softly on the flowers,  
Each step soft and silent.  

When you hate to see me  
And decide to leave,  
I’ll never never shed tears.



Let azaleas grow abundantly  
around where I am buried  

so when you come to stomp on my grave  
your feet will be covered with petals

and you will want to come back often  
even though you hate me passionately.



When you leave  
tired of me  
when you go  
I shall not weep  
to see you go  

I will gather  
pink azaleas  
from gardens  
to adorn your path  
when you go



Weary of seeing me, when you  
go away,  
without a word, gently,  
I shall let you   
go. 

From Mount Yak  
in Yŏngbyŏn,  
armfuls of azaleas  
I shall gather and scatter on your way.

As you go, step by step  
on the flowers placed before you  
tread lightly,  
softly as you go.



When you leave,  
weary of me,  
without a word I shall gently let you go.

From Mount Yak  
in Yongbyon,  
I shall gather armfuls of azaleas  
and scatter them on your way.

Step by step  
on the flowers placed before you  
tread lightly, softly as you go.

When you leave,  
weary of me,  
though I die, I’ll not let one tear fall.



When you turn away from seeing me  
and go,  
gently, without a word, I shall send you away.

From Mount Yak in Yongbyon,  
azaleas  
I shall gather an armful and scatter them on your way.

Step after step away  
on those flowers placed  
before you, press deep, step lightly, and go

When you turn away from seeing me  
and go,  
though I die, no, not a single tear shall fall.



If you would go,  
Tiring of me,  
Nothing will I say.

I shall pick azaleas  
At _Yaksan_, _Yungbyun_,  
And deck the path you tread.

Tread gently  
On my azaleas  
Where the path is decked.

If you would go,  
Tiring of me,  
No cry shall you hear of mine. 



When you leave,  
Weary of me,  
I'll gently let you go.

I will gather
Armfuls of azaleas  
From Yaksan to adorn your path.

Tread softly,  
Step by step,  
Upon the flowers as you go.

When you leave,  
Weary of me,  
I'll bite my lips to stop my tears.



When you leave,  
Grown weary of me  
I will gently let you go.

An armful of azaleas  
From Yaksan, Yongbyon,  
I will gather to adorn your path.

Tread softly,  
Step by step,  
Upon the flowers as you go.

When you leave,  
Grown weary of me,  
I will bite my lips to stop my tears.


 Should you leave me, Saying you're weary of me, No word would I speak. Only with azaleas From Yaksan, Pyongbook {{< indent 10 >}} Nyongbyon, Would I carpet your way. Tread on, my dearest— With lovely petals I will weave your way. If you grow weary of me, No tears would I shed Though I may die. 


When you leave, tired of me,  
I will be ready to let you go,  
no complaints, whatsoever.

And I will carpet your way  
with azaleas, armfuls,  
from the familiar Yaksan hill.  

May you enjoy light steps  
on the flowers for your path  
as you go ahead, if you like.

When you leave, tired of me,  
I surely won’t cry,  
no tears, never.



When you leave,  
sickened by the sight of me,  
I will send you away without a word.  

I will scatter an armful of  
azaleas from Yaksan in Yŏngbyŏn  
over the path you leave by.

Go, and let each footfall fall  
gently, tenderly  
on the flowers I have left for you.  

When you leave,  
sickened by the sight of me,  
even if I die, no tears will fall.



If you go away  
Through with me  
I will quietly let you go.

I will gather azaleas in armfuls  
At Yaksan hill in Yongbyon  
To scatter them on your path.

Tread with a tread,  
Light and gentle,  
On the flowers as you go.  

If you go away  
Through with me  
Never will I weep though I perish.



If you grow so sick of me  
you want to go,  
I'll let you go — gently — I won't say a word.

I'll pluck an armful of azaleas  
on Yaksan. Yangbyon:  
I'll strew them in your path.  

Tread gently  
on these flowers:  
they deck your parting steps.  

If you grow so sick of me  
you want to go,  
Though I die, I won't shed a tear.


Once I am shaped as the reason of your disgust, pushing  
you toward somewhere not here, there  
will be no words, my letting-go enduring graciously.

On a hill where herbs grow in Yongbyon province  
Jindallae flowers are blossoming, and here  
I have brought an armful I plucked to scatter them before you

as you take those steps away from here, and for each you take  
a flower will need to be crushed, so take care to tread  
lightly as you leave me be

in the shape of who I am that disgusts you so, pushing  
you toward somewhere not here, though  
this may be my death, no, tears won’t flow where I am.




You're sick and tired of me.  
When you go  
I'll bid you goodbye without saying a word.

I'll gather  
azaleas on Yak Mountain,  
the burning azaleas of Yöngbyon,  
and strew them in your path.


Tread gently, please,  
step by step, softly,  
on the flowers of dedication.

You're sick and tired of me.  
When you leave  
I'll not weep though I die.



When you tire of my love  
And leave me behind,  
Meek and silent, I shall let you go.

I shall pick azaleas  
From Mount Yak of Yung-byung  
And strew them upon your path.  

Then, step by step,  
You will tread upon the flowers  
As you walk away.

When you tire of my love  
And leave me behind,  
Though the pain be as death
I shall not weep.


If you go away,  
Sick of the sight of me,  
I’ll let you go without a word.

But I’ll also gather by the armful  
The azaleas flaming in Yaksan, Yongbyon  
And scatter them in your path

Tread gently  
And lightly  
As you pass.

If you go away,  
Sick of the sight of me  
I will weep no tears, though I die without you.


 > I will hold back the tears that I should be shedding, she says; that amount of sadness will not be reduced, but will build up in my heart, leading those azalea petals to fester as your “possession” of happiness. I shall not shed a tear, so tread upon them as [you] go. No matter what. No matter what, I shall not shed a tear. 


Me seeing revolted  
go-you-will-time-at  
word-without quietly send you-I-will.  

Yak-mountain in Yong'pyong  
azaleas (*object*)  
fill-arms you-will-go path-on spread-I-will.

Going-you footsteps  
placed those flowers (*object*)  
lightly crunch tread go-please.

Me seeing revolted  
go-you-will-time-at  
die-I-even not tears shed-I-will.



When seeing me sickens you  
and you walk out  
I'll send you off without a word, no fuss.

Yongbyon's mount Yaksan's  
azaleas  
by the armful I'll scatter in your path.

With parting steps  
on those strewn flowers  
treading lightly, go on, leave.

When seeing me sickens you  
and you walk out  
why, I'd rather die than weep one tear.



When you go away at last,  
sickened with the sight of me,  
know that I shall let you go,  
saying nothing, make no fuss;

but climbing high on Yongpyon's hills,  
there I'll pick azalea flowers,  
armfuls of purple, just to spread  
along the pathways as you go.

Then go, with muffled parting steps  
trampling down those flowers you find  
strewn before your departing feet;

and when you go away at last,  
sickened with the sight of me,
know that for the life of me  
I'll not shed tears then, no, not one.



I know you'll leave me one fine day.  
You're sick of me, is what you'll say;  
dumb and numb, I'll send you on your way.

Ahead of you I'll scatter showers  
great armfuls of azalea flowers  
from Yongbyon mountains' springtime bowers.

And as you go, each step you make  
lightly on the flowers that break  
will echo as the leave you take.

I know you'll leave me one fine day.  
You're sick of me, is what you'll say;  
but I'll not weep then, come what may.



The day will come when you loathe me  
and leave me;  
Goodbye, that's all, it's over.

I'll have them strew your road with  
azaleas  
from Yaksan in Yongbyon

Then be off with you  
marching briskly  
over those withered petals.

The day will come when you loathe me  
and leave me;  
you think I'll cry? Not on your life. I won't!



When you say goodbye  
turn aside and walk away  
I'll say farewell  
and not ask you why.

I'll gather flowers for love of you  
azaleas from some springtime hill  
and scatter them beneath your feet  
as you walk away.

Then go  
crushing with your parting steps  
my humble offerings of flowers.

When you say goodbye  
turn aside and walk away  
I tell you now that on that day  
I'll not shed a tear.



One day you'll walk out on me, I know,  
saying you need a change of air;  
you hope I understand, you do so hate a fuss.  

I suppose you'd love to see me dancing  
somewhere out ahead of you,  
scattering azaleas in your path, perhaps?

I can just see you there, prancing along  
squashing those poor flowers underfoot  
as you fade away into the sunset.

Oh yes, you'll walk out one day, I know,  
saying you need a change of air;  
you think I'll mind? I won't, you know.