Translation
--W. C. Williams (1949)

There is no distinction in the encounter, Sweet
....there is no grace of perfume
to the rose but from us, which we give it
....by our loving performance.

Love is tasteless but for the delicate turn
....of our caresses.  By them
the violet wins its word of love, no mere
....scent but a word spoken,

a unique caress.  That is the reason I wake
....before dawn and crush my pillow:
because of the strangeness of that flower
....whose petals hide for me

more than should be spoken, of love
....uniting all flowers beyond
caresses, to disclose that fragrance which is
....Our Mistress whom we serve.