In every morning,
no, actually every night
when I didn't go to bed
until I touched
the first stream of light from the sky
through my imaginary window,

I could see the fog
like a net of my dream,
and the world
was enveloped in morning mist.

At that moment,
I hoped my music could be my hand
to go to catch the shadow of the fog
and turn the dewdrops of the moon
into each of my notes.