R-ise of the beacon starts, 
E-liminating the night; 
I-nclement clime turns fine, 
Z-enith awaits the
L-ight.
G-ray clouds don't gather, 
U-nderneath the blue sky; 
L-et the sun fourteenth January
B-egin to ascend up high.
I-t's a beautiful Saturday, Friday the 13th is dead; 
N-ew dawn has broken, lucky day lies ahead.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem