Quietly, quietly—
listen with care.

In the wind, the victorious chorus
of budding shoots fills the whole world.
When the stream on the hillside slope
rushes splash, splash, splash
and echoes through the valley,
even nameless insects,
as if given wings,
run a thousand miles in search of love.

Quietly, quietly—
breathe in the scent.

The smell of the sea
breaks with the waves and drifts ashore.
Azaleas and forsythias,
with tender, longing eyes,
wait for your touch.
The earthy scent of an evening drizzle
reminds us of the sixth day of creation.

Quietly, quietly—
kneel down.

The delicate voice of the Holy One who calls
cannot be heard
or understood
without silence.
Heaven can be approached
only on pure knees.

Quietly, quietly—
open it.

A rusted door within you,
never once opened—
it can be opened
by the grieving tears of the soul.
There, a spring of praise and joy
is waiting for you.

Quietly, quietly—
stop your feet.

You who have run and raced so far—
where are you going?
Bury now the longing for old Egypt,
those forty years in the wilderness.
A golden sunrise
is rising toward a new world.

Quietly, quietly—
think.

Even one late payment
on rent, a car loan, or insurance
makes us live as if the final day has come,
burdened with anxiety and worry.
Yet God, who lent us life,
has never once asked for a usage fee.

Quietly, quietly—
lift up your eyes.

A tiny world unseen
even through a microscope,
and a vast world too immense
to contain even with a telescope—
they spread out
to the unreachable edges
beneath heaven and earth.

Quietly, quietly—
raise both hands.

To the One who governs
your soul, your body, and your life,
lift your hands high
and confess your love.
You will grasp
the hands of blessing
pouring down like a waterfall.

— Yoon Wan-Hee
(April 15, 1996)