C-oal black clouds above
H-ave gathered in the sky;
R-ise of the morning sun
I-sn't shining so high.
S-o let not the beacon hide,
T-he dark night is over;
O-ne new dawn has broken,
P-reparing for fair weather.
H-iding in the black lane,
E-arly light seems not bright;
R-ays that are emitted look like clouds aren't white.
T-hings that are expected
R-ight become unpleasant;
I-nstead of glowing gleam,
N-othing seems so radiant.
I-n first morn November
D-istress stays deep inside;
A-llow the woes to wane,
D-on't let the sunshine hide.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem