C-oal clouds Tuesday morning
H-ave all become white;
E-arly twenty-eighth February,
Z-enith sets things aright.
I-t's a beautiful day,
E-ventide yields to the beacon;
L-et the big burning flame rise above the horizon.
D-awn after the twilight
I-s breaking and shining;
Z-one of sweet success,
O-ne girl wants victory or
N-othing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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