This coldness is one of the beautiful pages I have met in my difficult life. It goes deep into my dreams and makes an ice shadow from my heart. It steals every possible warmth from my bag, so I'm still happily standing under that tree as a wet bird. This beautiful cold deliberately cuts my skin with its hidden knife, and breaks my face like the water of a frozen lake. This coldness kills my dreams every night and slaps my face every day, so you see flushing on my cheek every morning. It's not a lover's kiss or a pink rose, it's just a cold slap.