May I have a cup of sunlight, please?
May I touch the flesh of summer?
Why have May flowers bloomed
only to hide in quiet gloom?

Where is Maia, the Roman goddess of May?
Today she is crueller than kind.
May I feel the warmth of the sun?
May I marry Maia to my miasma.

And once betrothed, may she appear
wearing white robes of the sun,
a bride of unbridled blossoming.
May I know you, May, at last.