A-fter the twilight ends,
N-ew dawn has shown up;
E-arly morn March twenty-sixth
L-ets the raindrops stop.
I-t's a beautiful Sunday, cold chill passes by;
A-ll clouds become white, while the mist says goodbye.
G-et up from the bed,
A-fter a sweet slumber;
B-egin to feel the breeze,
A-s well as the fine weather.
T-wilight has just turned
I-nto a break of day;
N-ight shadows disappear, behold the blue skyway.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem