On a cold winter night,
A little girl selling matches,
Quietly left this world.
Like melting snow,
Disappear to the ground silently.
Ah, childhood-
That little match with red hair,
One by one,
How much warmth and happiness it brought.
How many winter nights,
She wandered in the cold street.
If I could live in her time,
I had to run to her,
Buy all her matches,
And then light it all,
Put her little heart,
Bake very warmly.
But tonight, little sister,
Why did you disappear for a long time?
Are you in heaven,
Where can there be the warmth of matches?
Flame, the flame of dance
Catch the last warmth on a cold night.
Put your little heart in the palm of your hand.
Look, happy, playing orange music.
Melt in the hands of the young shadow, stretch, stretch again, and turn into the tenderness of water.