Weeping Birch

The winter here is long, and the wind with snow at minus 30 degrees continues to penetrate my heart; Here dawn and midnight compete with each other, and the crowd sees the fireworks in the sky in their wine glasses; The people here are unsmiling, but their hearts are hot; This is me, I want to write to you One year the red sail on the Neva River will end this journey In the season when leaves fall like snow and wind, we will end our long farewell. "Yu Mo, I never hide anything. If you ask, you will get the answer."