M-isty Saturday has turned
I-nto a beautiful Sunday;
C-old chill and raindrops
H-ave just faded away.
A-llow the beacon to rise,
E-ighteenth of December;
L-et it bathe your life, as you wake from slumber.
N-ew dawn has broken,
O-pening the day with light;
C-oal black clouds have turned
I-nto a flame burning bright.
D-on't let the sun go down, nor let it quietly hide;
O-n the day of your birth, no more shadows outside.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem