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啸风
In winter,
Whose faces these are I think I know.
she is in my hometown though;
maybe she will not hesitate
To tell me her face changed with the coming snow.
in winter,
My little wooden house must be empty.
To wait for someone without noise.
Between the house and dark sky
The snow in the evening
is constrained.
in winter,
she waves hand
To ask if there is some flower.
The only sound I heard
Of harsh wind and silence.
The night is lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises before I sleep,
the coming snow in winter.
