F-oggy Saturday is gone,
R-ugged wind passes by;
E-arly Sunday morning,
D-ark departs from the sky.
S-un twelfth of March
I-s rising above the horizon;
D-awn denies the night,
L-ight comes from the beacon.
A-llow not the rain to fall,
C-oal clouds become white;
A-im at the zenith,
N-oon is in sight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem