Roses of June, you the most fair,
You with your hearts transpierced by sun;
Violent, tranquil roses, with the air
Of halted flights of birds upon a bough;
Roses of June and July, straight and new-begun,
Mouths whose kisses all at once are thrilled
With the wind or with it stilled,
Caressing with shade and gold the moving green;
Roses mutely ardent and sweet willed,
Voluptuous roses in your sheaths of moss,
You who pass the long summer time
Loving each other
In this clarity sublime;
Fresh, magnificent, vivid--like you, oh roses,
Is our multitudinous desire
That in lassitude or leaping fire
Loves, exalts, and then reposes!