Streets,
People go and come again.
Streets reserved for wealthy families
There is only one disharmony.
Blonde curls,
Feet without shoes,
An old apron,
Why are you wandering around here?
A game,
Take the road of fantasy,
The desire for happiness.
A game,
Connecting the road to heaven,
Happy land.
Go to sleep,
Sleep in peace!
Miss match seller.
When you wake up,
I will meet my kind grandmother,
Holy heaven.
Without pain,
Without cold,
Without hunger,
Only light and happiness!
On New Year's Eve,
On New Year's Eve.
Please spend it with grandma!
In the cold winter,
Matches,
How sacred it is,
What a beautiful illusion this is!
This makes the young lady who sells matches fantasize.
An incomparably warm stove,
The roast goose smells delicious.
Beautiful Christmas tree,
And a kind grandmother.
Matches,
How sacred!
I hope Miss Matches will always be happy!
Label: with poems