L-et the red beacon come,
E-arly in the morning light;
N-ew dawn begins to free
Y-our birth from the night.
T-wenty fifith December
O-pens the day with thrill;
R-aindrops have vanished,
R-ays obliterate the chill.
E-vening darkness fades, as the dusk goes to sleep;
S-aturday shadows turn into Sunday's flame to keep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem