J-anuary eighteenth dawn
O-pens the day with light;
E-vening chill disappears,
L-eaving the blaze burning bright.
O-ne Wednesday morning,
C-oal clouds don't gather;
A-s the haze is gone,
M-ist has cleared the air.
P-ouring rain has vanished into the Tuesday night;
O-pen your hands and pick another apple to bite.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem