A Broken ray, br Comes to me. br I know, br It’s your reflection; br But, it’s cold. br My cold-blooded fingers can’t catch the fire, br Still, I want to write an elegy, br On your Birthday, br On Christmas Eve. br My hands are frozen, br And have no bones; br I feel the cold, br All over my comatose body. br And it’s because, br I have lost you.