Warm Songs Have Long Been Sung

The warm songs have long been sung On a gloomy morning, like someone's sorrow The sky is of a transparent, white hue Autumn has ended, so quickly, what a pity, pity, pity The slippery asphalt irritates the passersby Someone is scattering it with sand In fur coats and hats, we all look alike Those I know, and those I don't The snow that fell on the city in silence Poses to us the eternal question: What have you lost, and how much have you found? People. After all, you were rushing all year long.