Does a fish have its privacy,
living in a small transparent world?
I peek at it from a distance,
pondering.

Last night, I had an odd dream:
the fish fed in my glass bottle cried.
I woke up with a sad mood,
a feeling that I was the fish.

I laid some seaweed,
and fancy stones inside.
I hoped they would made
a new home for that poor sprite.

For now when it spots my gaze,
it can fleet behind a screen.
The fish lives its simple life,
it doesn’t know I can turn to its back.

People around me
seem to see through me,
They don't know
I had a dream of that fish.