W-hile you rise from sleep,
H-ue of the sky gets bright;
E-arly light shines up high,
N-ew morn sets things
A-right.
F-rom the bottom of my heart
O-ctober twenty-first day;
R-hyme that I compose comes,
N-ever will it make you gray.
I-n the break of dawn, the silence is so deep;
Z-estful wish I write, while you rise from sleep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem