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.