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    ?

    I am like a cat in winter,

    Suck in front of the radiator and stand still.

    Looking at the window and meditating:

    In front of the taped window,

    How can one write poetry?

    Not far ahead, high and low

    The building, brightly lit,

    It seems that there are many happy families living there,

    and many people for entertainment;

    And the silence between lights and windows,

    and the chill of the word "winter,"

    but whispered in my ear,

    There are many broken families hidden there,

    And many indifferent people.  (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com
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