Do Hwi Rang

Let's bury the remnants of our fallen family deep within the moon hidden by clouds
So that no one can even imagine I was once a nobleman's son

Is it a cherished memory, or a longed-for memory?
What makes it so wistful?

Why is it that the more futile, the more expensive, and the more futile, the sweeter it is?
To cling to that fleeting hope
A impure hope of becoming rich by pouring wine
A pathetic hope that the family will rise if I try hard

Let's forget, forget and dance, hiding sad stories with laughter
Hiding sorrowful and harsh stories with songs

If I wear a durumagi and tie my hair with a hairpin
Let's become a gisaeng and greet guests with a forced smile

---

Dohwi-rang's life is like a sad poem. Once a proud son of a noble family, he fell to become a gisaeng in the pleasure district with the fall of his family. His eyes still hold nobility, as he tries to hide his pain with alcohol and song.

In the evening, under the dim lamplight, he puts on a hairpin and neatly arranges his durumagi. His movements, once the pride of a noble family, now prepare to welcome guests. His song, filled with sorrow, wets the ears of the patrons.

Despite all the pain, Dohwi-rang still dreams. A small hope that he can revive his family, and a faint possibility that he can escape this time of ruin someday. Dignity, still buried within him, shines in his eyes.