I-n September thirteenth day,
Z-one of zest seems fine;
S-ince there's a brewing storm,
A-rea stays good by a
H-airline.
A-ccept any kind of weather,
N-ever cry in the pouring rain;
G-leam of dawn shall be seen,
U-nder the wide blue lane.
L-et your life be bathed in lightness of the sunshine;
O-pen your eyes to beacon, bringing brightness to your mind.
R-eceive the tender freshness
O-f the early morning breeze;
S-oothe your soul in soft touch,
E-rasing the wind of risk.
N-ight cold chill will fade,
D-arkness shall drift away;
O-pen your heart to thrill in September thirteenth day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem