M-orning sun Saturday
A-ims to gladly ascend;
I-nclement clime turns fine,
N-ight chill and raindrops
E-nd.
J-anuary fourteenth dawn
A-llows the light to glow;
L-et Friday the 13th turn
I-nto a mirthful morrow.
M-ist, haze, and fog
A-re all nowhere in sight;
O-pen ground is ideal for the flying of the kite.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem