T-hursday twenty-third February,
E-arly morn starts to break;
S-un has begun to rise,
S-hining to mend the ache.
L-et the beacon come,
A-iming to warm your heart;
B-athing your life with rays,
I-t's a nice brand new start.
T-ry to rise above the ground,
A-nd feel the joy beyond compare;
N-o more mist and haze, as you jump in the air.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem