A door opened
and the snow covered the heaven and earth for several days
and a thousand doors closed,
and all the feet were stranded.
Dry grasses
have buried their cold feet in the snow
and cannot even take a step.
Even sounds are trapped.
Somewhere I faintly hear a sound.
I squat down in front of water
because only the running water hasn’t closed its door,
though its edges are frozen.
With a thousand doors closed,
only the floodgate flowing toward you remains open.
Though I attempt to catch the snowflakes,
they disappear as soon as they touch water.
The wet snow within the wet eyes–
I, too, step toward the open door.