C-oal clouds don't gather,
E-arly Thursday morning;
N-ew dawn has broken,
E-vening chill is fading.
S-hadow on Wednesday
I-s nowhere to be found,
O-n twenty-second December, sun has turned things around.
N-ight turns into a daybreak,
A-s the beacon begins to rise;
Z-enith awaits the noontime, aiming to amaze your eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem