After a person's smoke clears
Always a person's peace
The mountain is as quiet as ancient times
The sky suddenly brightens after dusk
Light up my long days like a young year
There are no flowers in the vase on the windowsill
The candle on the bookshelf did not light the window lattice
I gather up my skirt
Standing on the purple threshold of the night and looking carefully
There is a cold breeze blowing into the collar
Dancing alone in the atrium
I let myself indulge or break
Yesterday was covered with hands
Silence is my way
Although you don't agree