那是一个寒冷的冬天,北风“呼呼”地刮着,雪花在天空飞舞着,路上的行人把自己包裹得严严实实,只露出两只黑洞洞的眼。集市上的人就更不用说了,摊位上冷冷清清的,偶尔能看到几片干枯的落叶在地上追着雪花打着滚。一个嘴唇被冻得发紫的船夫哆哆嗦嗦地缩在一个避风的角落里。他头发灰白,乱蓬蓬地贴在脸 It was a cold winter, the north wind “whirring ” to scratch, snow in the sky flying, the road pedestrian wrapped themselves tightly, revealing only two dark holes in the eyes. Not to mention the people on the market, booths deserted, and occasionally able to see a few dry leaves chasing the snow rolling on the ground rolling. A grizzled sailor whose lips were frozen trembled in a sheltered corner. His hair was gray and disheveled on his face