Today we weep from the sorrow of losing you.
But we know you are already in peace, devoid of earthly sorrow.
We picture your face, your move, your hand often with a cigarette.
We hear the echo of your voice, a deep, kind, a little gravelly.
It seemed you preferred chuckles. Your laugh was hearty yet modest.
At times I fancied you were gazing on the horizon, over the throng.
I once stood with you under the single umbrella, conscious of closeness
of living bodies, not knowing its fate of ultimate departure.
Farewell, Yong-Ro, the coolest and the most stylish of us all.
Rest in peace. And forgive us if we weep once again during our
next class reunion.