You see that pink dot on the horizon
That is the DPRK, (Democratic People’s Republic of Korea)
Don’t cross that bridge over the Yalu River
It was destroyed by the Americans fifty years ago
It watches over the actions of men
On both sides of the river.
Come on, let’s take the other parallel bridge,
It will take us from China to North Korea.

And the night approaches like a wounded animal,
The statue of Kim II Sung
Draws the light of the stars
Proclaimed eternal president
He comes from a protestant family
His cry of « Songun », the army first
Still echoes in the parks of North Korea.

Black dots in the starry sky
The workers express themselves with their sweat
Their thoughts are faded flowers
You see a little further down the river,
The USS Pueblo that was captured in 1968
Today it haunts the Daedong River
At the mercy of North Korean tourists
And tells the black legend of power.

Let’s listen to what the river has to say:
The souls of political opponents
Have joined the sea of assassinations
How many were immersed in the cold water
Before the helpless eye of the deer of Lake Baikal?
In 50 years hundreds of thousands of voices
Have been reduced to an oceanic silence.

And the Sea of Japan to the east of the sun
Sprays with its maritime breath
The bodies burned with the iron of power
Let us scatter the ashes of the heroes
Perched on Mount Paektu (Baekdusan)
They will sprinkle the lake of the caldera
Ah if Baekdusan (literally the mountain with the white top) could give us courage,
We would bathe in the lake of paradise
Preparing for the next revolt.

And under the amused eye of the snow leopard,
The juniper and the dark blue larches,
We would trample on the stele of Kim II-sung
On the sacred mountain of the revolution
Then we would follow the trail of the Siberian shrew
That creeps into the heart of polluted cities
And we would return to prepare black tea
Thinking of tomorrow that slips through our fingers
Like a sable coat.

Pyongyang (literally: the quiet city) falls asleep
The sound of a military drum in the distance
still rings in my ears, I cried a little
Then I went out to disappear in the Korean night
The monuments to the glory of our tyrants
Illuminated the deserted sidewalks.
I will leave this city like a ghost.

I will go to the mountains in the northeast
To mine gold and coal with my bare arms
And when I have enough cold nuggets,
I’ll load up my backpack
I’ll cross the city like a comet,
To leave this unbreathable world
I’ll pick a blue flower on the hill
And scatter its petals
So that they show me the way to freedom.