That velvet touch – stroking April,
Warm caress of Friday night,
Glazed eyes; staring – not seeing,
Gazing beyond the cold July morn,
Quivering voice of uncertain May,
Beckoning...Calling,
Like Monday dawn – the lips moist,
A promise,
Given in sweet surrender,
And sealed by the lilac kiss,
Gone till December
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I would like to translate this poem