Moths fly round the light of the inspired ones
Whose hearts are as warm as the corona of the sun.
Pained and worried are they for the destiny of the nation.
Yet lovely as Paradise are they and as deep as eternity.
Moths fly round the light of the inspired ones.

On their faces radiant as mirrors
Shines the light from beyond this world…
Winds blow in their afterglow scattering kinds of fragrance…
People find infinite peace in their presence.
And also on their faces radiant as mirrors.

They inject a new life wherever they pass;
Soil turns to gold in their palms.
Even poison changes to something sweet on their tongues…
Souls open to them one after another.
They inject a new life wherever they pass.

Their words like the lamps of the Infinite diffuse light:
Always ready to pour themselves out like rain-bearing clouds.
They boil inwardly like volcanoes with desires of serving the nation.
Words as precious as jewels flow from their mouths.
And like the lamps of the Infinite they diffuse light.

Time is pregnant through their enchanting “breaths”.
Writhing with pains of giving birth to a sacred future.
I have come to understand it will be springtime for my nation
Whose light and color come from the other world…
Time is pregnant through their enchanting “breaths”.