|
Cold are the wind and the rain, |
|
And shrilly crows the cock. |
|
But I have seen my husband, |
|
And should I but feel at rest? |
|
The wind whistles and the rain patters, |
|
While loudly crows the cock. |
|
But I have seen my husband, |
|
And could my ailment but be cured? |
|
Through the wind and rain all looks dark, |
|
And the cock crows without ceasing. |
|
But I have seen my husband, |
|
And how should I not rejoice? |