The cock crows on the deep red path
in the cold light of dawn;
Orioles sing as spring comes to an end
in the imperial city.
The morning bell in the Gold Tower
opens countless doors;
On the jade steps imperial weapons
guard hundreds of officials.
Flowers welcome their swords and pendants
as the stars grow dim,
And willows brush their banners with leaves
still wet from morning dew.
Over by the Phoenix Pool
there is somebody on his own
Writing the song ‘The spring in the sun’
that none can readily match.