R-ise of the beacon starts,
E-liminating the night;
I-nclement clime turns fine,
Z-enith awaits the
L-ight.
G-ray clouds don't gather,
U-nderneath the blue sky;
L-et the sun fourteenth January
B-egin to ascend up high.
I-t's a beautiful Saturday, Friday the 13th is dead;
N-ew dawn has broken, lucky day lies ahead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem