E-arly Wednesday morning,
L-ight meets March twenty-second;
S-un has begun to rise,
A-s the night raindrops end.
M-ist, haze, and fog
E-vade the break of day;
R-ugged wind disappears,
C-old chill fades away.
U-nderneath the blue sky,
R-ough weather turns fine;
I-nclement clime will vanish,
O-nce the beacon begins to shine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem