It repeats itself never—not in two rosebuds, not in two snowflakes.
The snowflakes clung to her hair and blew against her soft cheeks.
An icy wind was blowing, and the snowflakes were whirling through the air.
Snowflakes fell steadily and melted against the white cheeks.
The spirit of the sky was listening, and he said, 'We call them snowflakes.'
He turned to say good-by, but the old man was gone, and where he had stood were only snowflakes.
Snowflakes were being whisked hither and thither, like spray from a wave.
I've just thought of what that reminds me of—it's snowflakes!
They were the snowflakes, which again began to fall rapidly.
Result: the snowflakes didn't have a chance to melt, not even to freezing rain.