This piece grew out of a single line from a haiku I happened to come across by chance. Holding on only to the fleeting image contained in the words, “through lamplight, quietly into the dark — falling snow,” I tried to translate that impression into sound. The music shapes the image of light and darkness, and the snow drifting between them, guiding the listener into a quiet, mysterious winter night.
Over irregular figures in the harp and celesta, the strings respond with delicate echoes, creating a kind of sonic mist, as if snowflakes are slowly coming into view one by one. As the piece unfolds, woodwinds, brass, and percussion gradually join, and the music repeatedly gathers and releases tension like an invisible wind passing through. However, this tension does not lead to a grand explosion; instead, it slowly sinks back into a deep stillness.
In the end, what remains is not thick silence, but the air that lingers between very small sounds, and the sense of snow continuing to fall in the darkness. While the music is playing, I hope it will quietly overlap with each listener’s own memory of a winter scene.