A-im at what lies ahead,
M-ove on to cross the line;
Y-our race is God-given, it's the Almighty's design.
S-ometimes the cloud is black,
A-t times the wind is vile;
Q-uest for the new morn,
U-ntil you start to smile.
I-ntend to reach your goal,
D-ark sky is turning red;
O-n the fifteenth of June, aim at what lies ahead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem