In Your Hand, Dear Child (Poet : Park Seolhui)
Migrating birds in the sky,
The birds of fallen leaves on the earth,
Fluttering small firebirds in-between.
Candlelight is a tiny fire, my child,
But it all began here, it is here,
And let’s begin here—
The land of sorrow,
The land of darkness.
Hardened and rigid things,
After quietly reflecting themselves on the lake inside you,
Can become waves one day and turn into streams any time.
The candlelight is
A river flowing down,
A blue elm,
A soaring fountain.
Nobody can force you to hold the candlelight.
Passing through caves and snow-covered forests,
This will be a long journey.
Take candlelight in your hand,
My child, in your hand.
Once a flame catches fire in your heart, there is no turning back.
Do not stand around at the feet of an old monument.
Rather, give birth to a world, my child.
