In the winter days that have not completely faded away yesterday
What kind of secrets were hidden by the snow
No one wants to know
No one feels that something is missing
Turning around, seeing the snowman strolling on the childhood street
Unable to tolerate the arrogance of the gentleman on the stage
Suppressing the boiling restlessness
Waiting for the sharp scream of the class bell
Wanting to make noise, buried deep in the frozen soil, the grass seedlings
Just like stacking the backpacks that weigh down humans
Named as the prison of cultivation
Filled with colors that are incompatible with children
Roaring with laughter, the winter bird flies out of the golden cage
Escaping before the deafening spring thunder falls
If you are still you
You must feel unusually cold
Habits, memories, hesitations, picking up the pen, snow sparrows on paper, playing
On the land with a weak color tone, there is no sign of the vitality that should have been before spring
Picking up the lost, suppressing, admiring, insight, falling snow, forest, traces
In the candlelight, the scholar searches in the bitter night
The cold wind blows on the tips of the hair
The cold night escapes in the heart
Even the sun seems to have lost its radiance
Repeating the prayer for ice to melt into water
Actually, it's because I remember you said you like the gentle spring breeze
We, who were young and ignorant
The long-frozen heart gate
Wrap the quilt before the warm spring arrives
Those few winter plums with heavy makeup or light makeup
Will they also want to witness the spring thunder falling from the gray winter clouds?