R-aindrops keep falling,
U-nless the sun will shine;
B-eacon rises to warm
Y-our heart, making it fine.
A-s you wake from slumber,
D-ecember thirtieth day;
L-et the Friday morn bring
E-arly light to brighten the gray.
M-ake Thursday night unable to see and meet the morrow;
O-pen your eyes and find the butterflies in the meadow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A pretty wonderful acrostic, Bernard...................