Cindy's poem Winter Night

Sitting in front of the burning stove,

The luster of wood makes me unspeakable shy;

Touching the faded satin,

The black cat whispered.

Shutters let in fresh air at night,

The stars are near under the pillars of the promenade;

Miss the dust outside the warmth,

How many pedestrians were hit by loud noises tonight?

-1934 65438+ one night in February Xishan Songtang