I-t's a lovely Thursday,
R-ain leaves no trace;
I-n twenty-third February,
S-unshine sweeps the
H-aze.
M-ist, fog and flood
A-re nowhere in view;
E-vening shadows disappear into the dark, gray, and blue.
C-oal clouds don't gather,
O-n the day of her birth;
R-ed beacon has come,
D-istributing a million mirth.
I-n spite of the storm,
A-lways she sings to the Maker;
L-ord God Almighty is praised by the choir member.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem