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Ab gai so cundet e leri
fas motz e capus e doli,
que seran verai e sert
quan n'aurai passat la lima,
qu'Amor marves plan e daura
mon chantar que de lieis mueu
cui Pretz manten e governa.

Tot jorn melhur e esmeri
quar la gensor am e coli
del mon, so'us dic en apert:
sieu so del pe tro qu'al cima
e si tot venta'ill freg'aura,
l'amor qu'ins el cor mi pleu
mi ten caut on plus iverna.

Mil messas n'aug en proferi
e'n art lum de cer'e d'oli
que Dieu m'en don bon acert
de lieis on no'm val escrima;
e quan remir sa crin saura
e'l cors qu'a graile e nueu
mais l'am que qui'm des Luzerna.

Tan l'am de cor e la queri
qu'ab trop voler cug l'am toli,
s'om ren per trop amar pert,
que'l sieu cors sobretrasima
lo mieu tot e non s'aisaura:
tan n'a de ver fag renueu
q'obrador n'ai'e taverna.

No vuelh de Roma l'emperi
ni qu'om m'en fassa postoli
qu'en lieis non aia revert
per cui m'art lo cors e'm rima;
e si'l maltrait no'm restaura
ab un baizar anz d'annueu,
mi auci e si enferna.

Ges pel maltrag que'n soferi
de ben amar no'm destoli;
si tot mi ten en dezert
per lieis fas lo son e'l rima:
piegz tratz, aman, qu'om que laura,
qu'anc non amet plus d'un hueu
sel de Moncli Audierna.

Ieu sui Arnautz qu'amas l'aura
e cas la lebre ab lo bueu
e nadi contra suberna.

On a nice, gleeful and happy melody
I write, and polish and plane words
that will be true and certain
when I have filed them smooth,
since Love soon levigates and gilds
my song, which moves from her
upon whom Worth wakes and rules.

Every day I improve and polish,
because I love and crave for the kindest one
in the world: here I tell you openly
I'm hers from head to heel,
and even if the cold wind blows,
the love that rains in my heart
keeps me the warmer the colder it is.

I attend and offer a thousand masses,
and burn candles of wax and of tallow
for God to gift me with success
with her with whom fencing is useless;
and when I see her blond hair,
her body lean and fresh,
I love her more than [I would] one who'd give me Luzerne.

So much I love her and want her in my heart
that I fear to lose her out of excessive desire,
(if one can lose something out of excessive love)
because her heart overcomes
mine and doesn't part from it:
so, indeed, she holds me
like the inn holds the worker.

I don't want the throne of Rome
nor to be made Pope
if I can't find refuge near her
for whom my heart burns and flares;
and if she doesn't correct the wrong
with a kiss within a year,
she kills me and damns herself.

In spite of the pain I endure,
I don't sway from loving well;
even if she deserts me,
I write melody and rhyme for her:
I suffer more loving than one who labours
because, compared to me, the one from Moncli
didn't love Audierna more than an egg.

I am Arnaut who hoard the air
and hunt the hare with the ox
and swim against the flow.