A-n early morn has come,
U-sing the warm Saturday;
R-ise of the beacon begins,
E-vening chill fades
A-way.
F-rom the break of dawn,
E-leventh March makes a start;
L-et the rapture remain
I-nside the core of your heart.
C-oal cloud up above
I-s just nowhere to find;
A-llow the mirth to stay deep inside your mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem