H-aze, fog, rain, and mist
O-f Friday night are gone;
N-ew morn has broken,
E-arly light stops the
Y-awn.
M-oment of seventeenth December
I-s filled with a thousand thrill;
L-et your birthday shine,
A-s it ignores the cold chill.
R-apture makes you smile,
P-ure delight is heartwarming;
I-t's because of the beacon,
S-unny Saturday morning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem