J-ust let March twenty-eighth
O-pen the early Tuesday;
R-ed beacon is shining
I-n the wide blue skyway.
A-fter the cold dark night,
R-ain comes to a close;
A-ll clouds become white,
R-iver's clear water flows.
A-nother morn has broken,
C-hilling wind fades away;
A-s you behold the penned
P-ortrait of your birthday.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem