J-ust rise up from sleep
O-n Thursday so warm ever;
S-un has started to shine,
E-ighth morn of December.
S-hadows and cold chill
A-re turning to bright light;
Z-enith meets the beacon,
O-ne dawn denies the
N-ight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem