....
Your soft strokes of brush
As if touches my dreamy springtime
Peaks love from the old trash
Where the endless fairy of rhyme
As I read this poem
So many times
It doesn't mean that
I have forgotten repeatedly
Just I have felt in too many ways
Yet a few lines of poem
Grows a new meaning of love
And emitting the dreaming rays
Even when I am passing through
The very pale days
...
..
without dream life is a frozen barren field
....