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Tot a estru
Vei, Marcabru,
Que comjat voletz demandar.
Del mal partir
Non ai cossir,
Tant sabetz Mesur' esgardar.

Ia non creiretz
D'aquesta vetz
Cels qui nos volrian mesclar.
No·t teing per mois
Si non conois
Qual te vol far refolleiar.

Grans er tos sens,
Si ren sai prens,
Per nuilla paor de chantar
En rauca votz
Que ruich e glotz
E non glafilla n'aut ni clar.

S'agues aver
E mon poder,
Garnitz vos fora del donar,
E car non l'ai,
Prendetz balai,
Que non podetz ren al portar.

Petitz enfans
M'as trobatz tans
Que l'uns non pot l'autre levar!
Cill m'an escos,
Fe que dei vos,
Tot quant eu solia gabar.

De gran folles
T'es entremes,
Cum fes lo moutos de lairar,
Quan sai de Bles
A mi vengues
Per negun aver conquistar.

T'ai, Pan-perdut,
E cuidavas ton nom celar!
Quan tornaras,
Segurs seras
De seignor et ieu de joglar.

It is in quite a hurry,
I see, Marcabru,
that you want to take your leave.
I do not think
you will make a bad start,
so well you know how to keep Moderation.

Surely, you won't believe,
this time,
those who would mix us up:
I don't consider you wise
if you don't recognize
one who wants you to commit new follies.

Your sense is great,
if you start something here,
without fear of singing
with a hoarse voice
which roars and clucks
and cannot weave a high and clear sound.

If I had riches
in my power,
I would be ready to shower you with gifts,
and, since I do not have any,
take a broom:
you can't carry anything else.

You've found so many
little children, at my place,
that one can't lift the other!
They have stripped me,
by my troth,
of all I used to squander.

You have mixed yourself
in great follies,
as a mutton who barked,
when, from Blois,
you came here, to me,
to earn some money.

I've recognized
you, Lost-Bread,
and you thought you'd conceal your name!
When you come back
we'll be sure,
you to have a lord, and I a jester.

Note: Marcabru would answer this sirventes with Seigner n'Audric.