Land of the Morning Calm

I do not know
Where my love began,
How it was conjured
From dirty concrete,
And crumbling rooftiles,
I have no answer
It is simply my heart's desire,
But one cannot fall desperately
For narrow streets
And idle engines,
Yet here I find joy filling me
Like too much of a good meal
In summer's ruthless heat,
Almost sickeningly
I cannot stop loving you,
Your mountains and streams
The shape of your trees,
Sound of your buses and trains
Heaving and sighing,
And the words slipping
From so many lips
A language of
Wars and division,
Struggle and occupation,
Pushing and shoving modernization,
Oh, what can I do,
Even my lover's pretty mouth
Was born of this land,
His dark eyes and subtle smiles,
Echo some anthem
Incomprehensible,
Penned by the very wind itself,
And was first sung
By your sky.