May Festival in autumn Oz

I love autumn. And I love the first of May (which is autumn here in the southern hemisphere). But most of all I love the Afrikaans poem by South African poet N.P. Van Wyk Louw, written in Amsterdam in 1950.
   Every year as I open my eyes and think - Ah, the first of May - the poem lies ready on my heart and lips:

"Die Eerste Mei is wit en blou
en elke bloeisel sing
en elke burger het sy hond
hier in die park gebring
om onder hierdie Boland-lug
te akkie waar hy wil,
maar ek loop in my hart en sing:
my fees is een April..."
etcetera

So this year I tried my hand at translating this poem into English. I am not sure whether I quite succeeded - Louw was such a marvelous poet, blending language codes with masterful acuity, and all translations must lose something. He himself said in a poem "Something is written in starry clarity/which I rewrite in dust" (my translation). So here is my dusty version:

May Festival in Amsterdam – N.P. van Wyk Louw

The first of May is blue and white
and every blossom sings
and every burgher brings
his dog here to the park
where under this half-familiar sky
it poos to make a mark,
but my song in my own heart rings:
I celebrate April first.

I celebrate for the sombre ones
on lusciousness well-fed
as sober and married pairs
turn to double beds;
the Truth is endless old:
our words to silence drift;
my word was never true:
I celebrate April first.

I celebrate drunker than the fest
of ‘Tristan’, ‘Lancelot’!
who hormone-incited
their way to death have trod.
Our best is pitifully poor.
God’s testament re-versed:
fools can turn to wise men:
I celebrate April first.

I celebrate in a cool, grey eye
that darkens with the wine
my teeth are white from milk
and milk is pure and fine:
I praise those who purely in prayer
the power of seed dispersed
and singing I retreat from May:
I celebrate April first.

translated from Afrikaans by Ilse van Staden