The oldest burns the flame
That bears a special fame
It provides wheat
So that people could eat
From the days of sickles to those of tractors
In the peasants labour found its source
The second flame can be found in a factory
With toil he gains his mastery
Through suffering like from Naraka he gains glamour
Those once up are now down, bowing to the will of the hammer
Technologies change and so do regimes
Sooner or later work replaces market's schemes
The third flame comes from the mind
It's put forth by the samuwon
Independence, creatvity and consciousness are his find
If its purity is won
It is nurtured by intellectuals
Action is necessary, but so are all kinds of professionals
For seventy years the three flames into a single one form
Coming together into a torch as a signal to set a norm
In an honest people's heart they burn
Yet scorch only the imperialist in turn
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