J-ust let the third January
H-eal your broken heart;
O-ne early Tuesday morn,
Y-our ache and pain depart.
B-eacon is burning bright
I-n the wide orange lane;
N-o more Monday mist,
A-s well as the cold rain.
Y-our mind, heart, and soul
A-re bathed with sunlight;
N-ew dawn has broken to bring a beautiful sight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem