G-leam of the red beacon
I-s shining on Thursday;
A-iming to bring brighness,
N-ot dark, not blue, nor gray.
O-pen your eyes to new light,
L-et them glow after slumber;
G-lints come from above,
I-n eighth morn of December.
N-ight cold chill is over, shadows pass from view;
A-fter the twilight is gone, the dawn breaks anew.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem