Lyric

The wind at the dock is salty

The shadow left one step earlier than the person

The day the ship left the shore

I secretly put the last grain of sand

Into my pocket

The outline of the mountains in the south

Slowly dispersed in the fog

Looking south--

Is that island still there?

The fragrance of rice, the sound of the tide, the alley at dusk

Is there anyone

Waiting for someone to go home

The memory faded like an old photo

But it glows quietly at night

In my dream, I can still walk back to that street

Smell the fragrance of freshly baked sweet potatoes

What we lost

Is not only our home

But also the self who learned to say goodbye in those years

Looking south--

Will the wind blow over there again? If possible, I would like to be a shadow drifting on the sea

Gently, falling on that familiar field

Whose name is still hidden in the sound of the wind

Calling softly