Passages of my childhood arise within my mother’s death gaze,
bringing reminiscences of olden days.
When in sadness in childhood we would speak in silent gaze.
No mother left to envision me now, now within those quiet eyes.
Mother, you have gone away;
oh, dear mother let the memories rest beneath your eyelids.
But never close your eyes!
The imageries still dance in them as if you’re still alive!
While vibrancy in your quiet eyes remains, I'll save
this voiceless reflection I saw from a mother's hushed eyes.
Mere images from when I was a child,
and often when I'll be sorrow-hearted, these reflections will then give me joy;
so, while life does remain in cycle, the memories she has protected;
those reflections I saw from a mother's hushed eyes.
Oh, I remember the life of my mother's glossy eyes,
my reception of joy to her when I returned home,
always gently did her eyelids come to a rest
as she used to sit and wait for me to speak,
but now are not closed, and silent;
though they have left me for the cold of death,
but while mute voices do persist, in those images I'll remember
this vivid reflection I saw from a mother's hushed eyes.