I hear the mother’s voice, the father’s voice—
bright notes lifting like morning birds,
joyful sounds, unashamed, unhidden.

Even when you take their sleep,
they give it freely,
for what is rest
compared to the wonder of you?

On the first day, or the third—
you open your eyes
to the mystery of dark and light.
You answer the universe
with the small drums of your ears.
Your face moves in gentle ripples,
as it once did
in the warm sea of your mother’s womb.

Hour after hour through the long night
you call them—
your soft cries
the bell that draws them near,
for a hundred days,
and a hundred more.

And still, with every moment,
their happiness rises,
step by step,
as if climbing a ladder toward heaven.

Then the tears come—
not tears of sorrow,
but bright, overflowing tears of joy:
tears that turn grief into gladness,
and gladness back into grief again,
the holy exchange of love
that never ends.

Even when their bodies fall silent,
their watching does not cease.
From above, from beyond,
they lean over the rail of eternity,
still keeping vigil,
still sending down
their happy tears.

– TaeHun Yoon