男孩儿小木一个人在街上走着。天真冷啊。冬天的寒风仿佛夹杂着冰粒,呼呼地刮过地面,如横冲直撞的鸟儿一般,晃得街边光秃秃的树枝嘎嘎作响。夜幕下的楼房,从每一格窗子里都透出明亮的光,看上去是那样温暖,小木不禁伸出手想要触摸—可那些光芒都离他太远、太远了。冬天的夜晚,小木只穿了一件薄薄的单衣,冻得浑身哆嗦,手指和脚趾都失去了知觉。他 Boy walking alone in the street. Naive cold ah. The cold wind in winter seems to be mixed with ice particles, whirring the ground, such as rampaging birds, shaking the bare branches of the street rattling. The buildings under the night, the bright light from each cell window, looks so warm, the wood can not help but reach out and want to touch - but those lights are too far from him, too far. Winter night, the small wooden only wear a thin coat, shivering cold, fingers and toes have lost consciousness. he