R-ise of the sun begins,
I-n twenty-fifth December;
Z-enith awaits the beacon,
A-s you wake up from slumber.
L-et Saturday typhoon pass,
D-on't let it spoil your birth;
E-agerly enjoy the party with thrill and a million mirth.
A-llow the Sunday morn to break,
G-ive much thanks to the Lord;
U-se your mind and heart,
I-n saying a prayer you accord.
L-et the new dawn shine, as the dusk passes from eyes;
A-llow the twilight to go, and have a day so nice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem