Before dawn breaks,
It's the rooster who's crowing door to door,
With a tremolo voice in long measures.
It's a motherly voice, hailing from Nature in the cold farm country.
Toh-ti-koo, toh-ru-moh toh-ru-moh

In the cold morning bed,
My soul flaps out its wings,
From the door left a crack open,
The night scene is splendidly brilliant,
But before daybreak,
Melancholy visits my bed.
Beyond the burgeoning tree-boughs,
The rooster hails from Nature in the far-off farm country.
Toh-ti-koo, toh-ru-moh toh-ru-moh

My love.
My love.
By the shadowed screen-panel at dawn,
I sniff the chrysanthemum's subtle scent
That's like the smell of ailing spirits,
It's the subtle festering of white chrysanthemums,
My love,
My love.

Before dawn bereaks,
My heart wanders past the graveyard's shadows.
O I retch out an answer to that caling , of something.
The pale rouge atmosphere is too much to bear.
My love,
Mother dear,
Come quick and extinguish the cresset-torch.
In the humming gust-wind blowing in to the earth's
four corners, I ask,
Toh-ti-koo, toh-ru-moh toh-ru-moh.