All kinds of love will age, just like in a love story with silky hair that does not age, but only plays the role of a witch with skin like snow, it will eventually pass away one day. As for me, I'm just paying it back to you.
On another winter morning, I no longer knew where a witch could rest.
The streets without snow are so quiet and deserted...
The childish heart loves the morning light, and the sleeves are full of winter snow,
I don't know the sorrows of the world. A foot of warm and cold wind.