Going down the streets,on a winter evening,
Watching Birds with their open wings ,
Soaring high in the sky ,
Listening to the sounds of a babies cry ,
She was lost in her thoughts ,
Looking at the hanged pots,
It was the new year's Eve ,but she couldn't go home,
Afraid of her father whose heart was made of stone,
She was sent out to sell the match boxes,
She couldn't sell even one cuz people only focused on roses ,
Winter made her cold and white ,
She went into a small narrow street where she saw some light,
This might be light of hope to save her from this cold,
She sat there and saw the sheets...