My head is oe’r the windowpane
While mother orchestrates the chrysanthemums
Heaped from the hothouse during the autumn frost.

Snowfalls are like ice sheets stalwartly stacked atop
But every time it reaches the clouds
It collapses into shards of glass swiftly.

And when I woke up
Those clear crystals melted away
No memories were left from a winter dream.