K-iss the mist goodbye,
Y-our birth brings much mirth;
L-et January twenty-second
E-rase the mess from earth.
L-et Saturday night pass,
A-s the sun removes the rain;
C-oal clouds become white,
U-nderneath the blue lane.
E-vening chill disappears,
S-unday meets the morning;
T-housand thrill is brought,
A-s you sit in a swing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem