The cold winter has gone, the spring which makes the flowers blossom has passed, and the summer which provides the shade under the tree has arrived. Once this season passes, I suppose the autumn – which causes the trees to bear fruit in the clusters – will also come. The tenth essay collection of stories written by me – Wolsan – has recently been published. Some way or another, I wanted to write down these stories. This book is yet another product of a man’s zeal for writing.

The title of the book is ‘Stories of the Four Seasons’. The reason for this title is because my life has been like the changing of the four seasons. The changes have been very great and clear. My life contains all the distinctive features of the four seasons. In the extremes of the winter, I have had to survive by holding on to the world like ice. When the winter passes, the spring comes in and the plum tree bears its fruit. Along with the plum tree, the Azaleas come into full blossom and my heart is full of hope. After that, the shade beneath the breezing trees can be found, and under it one can dry off their sweat in the summer. When I thought I could feel a cold wind coming in, the cold frost of autumn immediately comes! In accordance with the changing of the seasons, I have experienced so many things. These experiences have come back to me and have borne fruit in the form of my writing.

Is there anyone who will remain constant and will labor and toil with me my whole life! Of course, I have my family. I have my beloved wife, and I have my son, who looks and lifts his head like one does to the sun. But they themselves are meeting with the four seasons of their own lives. When I look at them, I remember the events of my own.

A little child will become a young boy. A young boy will become a young man. And a young man will meet the prime of his life. The man in his prime will finally become a man great in years. His movements will slow down. Even his back will not straighten up properly. He will lose all of his strength. But the man great in years has great experience and wisdom. If the one with this kind of experience and wisdom does not write down what he knows before he leaves the earth, it will be truly unfortunate. The experiences of the past bring him wisdom, like that of pearls. If the future generations do not end up seeing these things, it will be such a great loss.

The people of this present generation have all the benefits of science and civilization. They are moving at such a great speed. If these people do not know about the past, it will be no different from a tree losing its own roots. Can any tree which has no roots bear fruit? Sure, historians set an orderly and accurate account of the past for people to read. But if the ones who can acceptably express genuine emotions leave this earth, the accounts of the past will be lost in misunderstanding. This present generation will grow up with serious distortions and the boundaries of proper understanding will be lost.

Flowers that are placed in a flower vase are attractive, but the butterflies do not rest on such flowers. These flowers do not bear any fruit. In the past, it was necessary for me to ask for strong faithfulness. This is what the people of that generation responded positively to. But people are now trying to discover supposed misdoings of the past and are trying to break down long upheld structures. The intentions may be good, but the root will be pulled up. If this happens, the life of the whole tree will end. The tree will perish.

I am not a professional historian. I have simply undergone the experience of the four seasons found in my humble life. I vividly remember the events of the past. I have experienced them. I feel them and desire to write them down. I have no desire to invade the territory of others. But at all costs, I wish to tell the tale of my life passed through the four seasons. The essay collection, ‘Stories of the Four Seasons’ is not just my own story. It is the story belonging to all. I have used the excuse of writing them in the form of essays. I am a little embarrassed about it, but all the stories found here are true.

The essays of Wolsan are being translated into many languages. Many people from these countries have come into contact with them and are responding with the same sentiments as the people here with me. I thank all my companions who have loved the writings of an old man.

Semuon