R-ising sun March twenty-fifth
O-pens the Saturday sky;
S-hadows have disappeared,
E-vening chill says goodbye.
E-arly in the morning,
S-oft wind fills the air;
C-oal clouds and raindrops
A-re far from fine weather.
L-ight from the beacon
A-ims to warmly ascend;
N-ew dawn is breaking
T-oward the twilight's
E-nd.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem