The dawn in south country,

You say, you want to know the feel in the land of ice and snow.

I don’t understand, why do you abandon warm for cold?

You smile without words.

It is hot in south country.

Everything is becoming stagnant,

Forgetting the feel of distance, also the sense of change,

Even the sense of two closed bodies.

The noon of fluttering drops.

You tell me through cell phone,

You have to go to the country only having ice and snow.

Why?

I’m asking and phone in hands is getting cold, while sweating in my forehead.

Nothing, I just want to get my feeling of temperature back, say you slightly.

But, you can feel it here, the south country?

My answer is without confidence.

However,

You speak softly,

One day, you will understand well what feel I meant.

After your leave,

It is starting to rain here.

Gust crossed the mountains,

Sea shaded color off hash blue,

But the temperature is at your leaving.

I am starting to talk to strangers,

Especially who come from north lands.

Ask the temperature of snowing,

The icy land,

And,

Do they see you?

The question I never ask with lack of brave.

In the second summer after your leave,

Sea again turns to blue,

Temperature again becomes familiar,

Visitors again visit,

You again leave me no words.

When you are not here,

I often sat down alone near the sea,

From dawn to dust,

From summer to winter.

I only desire to know what is the feel of temperature,

But it still stays at your leave without any changes.

Finally, I am starting to know the feel without feel of warm.

It is snowing outside the window.

Except hash red of maple leaves,

Everything is pure white.

It is the day long after your leave,

I am finally here,

From the warm south to the icy north.

I am the man never see snow before,

Eventually knows what real snow is,

Feel what winter is,

And feel what you felt.

Eating frozen bread,

Fingers slide out of frosty bag,

Each breath from my mouth is becoming the falling snow flower.

Smoking rises from the ground,

This is the cold fume that south never knows.

Although there is no cloud in the sky,

The sun is frozen in the half.

This is the first time,

I am starting to remember the temperature in southern country.

“How dare you come here to feel this feel?”

My voice is full of jealousness and caring.

“Never come here alone, if next time,”

“I will be envious of you.”

Nose is pricked,

Tears is frozen,

In the peace yard you sleeping,

I cannot find out

The familiar temperature of south.