把这一句，留给此刻的你

St. Agnes’ Eve---Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limped trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold.

圣艾格尼丝的平安夜——啊，寒冷刺骨!猫头鹰虽然长了一身羽毛，却浑身冰凉。野兔一瘸一拐地走着，在冰冻的草地上瑟瑟发抖。

— John Keats 济慈