Un vers farai de tal mena On vuelh que mos sens paresca, Mas tant ai ric'entendensa Que tostz n'estauc en bistensa Que no posca complir mon gaug; Ans tem c'un sol jorn no viva Tant es mos desirs del fait lonh;	So I shall write a verse where I want my wit to appear, but I have such noble ambitions that I soon lapse into doubt that I may complete my happiness; I rather believe that I shan't live a day, so far my wish is from its realisation.
Qu'ins en mon cor me semena Us volers, e crey que·y cresca D'amor que·y met tal creyssensa Que d'als non ai sovinensa, Ni res qu'ieu aya no·m fa gaug; Ans lays, e mos cors esquiva, Autre joy que d'al non ay sonh.	For a longing sows in my heart, and I believe it grows out of love, which gives it such a growth that I have no recollection of anything else, nor can anything I have give me happiness; quite the opposite: I relinquish (and my heart shuns) other joys, for nothing else strikes my fancy.
Pero si·n sofr'ieu gran pena Qu'ins en mon cor sal e tresca, Qu'anc hom per belha parvensa Non trays tan greu penedensa. Mas non ai per qu'ieu n'aya gaug? – Quar us volers m'en abriva E·m ditz qu'en altre joy non ponh.	But it makes me suffer greatly, for it leaps and frisks in my heart; never did anyone do such a heavy penance [merely] for a beautiful fantasy. But doesn't it give me something to be happy about? – For a longing for it assails me and tells me not to apply myself to other joys.
Ben m'a nafrat en tal vena Est'amors qu'era·m refresca Don nuls metges de proensa Nadius no·m pot far guirensa; Ni mezina que·m fassa gaug, Ni ja non er hom qu'escriva Lo greu mal qu'ins el cor m'esconh.	This love, which is now renewed for me, has indeed wounded me in such a vein that no medic in Provence can ever cure me nor [is there a] remedy to bring me happiness, nor is there anyone, either, who can describe the grievous ill that I engrave in my heart.
Qu'amors m'a mes tal cadena Plus doussa que mel de bresca; Quan mos pessars en comensa Pus pes que·l dezirs m'en vensa. Don per que torn mon plor en gaug E vau quo fai res penssiva? – Quar non aus mostrar mon bezonh.	For love has bound me with a chain sweeter than honey from the comb; when I start grieving about it, it grieves me even more that its desire may overcome me. Why, then, do I turn my weeping into happiness and loiter lost in thought? – For I don't dare reveal my passion.
Ben ai ma voluntat plena De tal sen que s'entrebesca; E cuig que m'aia tenensa Car nuls hom mais per plivensa Non estet en aitan gran gaug! Domna, si·m fossetz aiziva Tost saubra s'en fol m'en peronh.	My desire is indeed filled with opposing thoughts; and I imagine that it holds me in thrall because nobody was ever so happy on credit alone; lady, if you were gracious to me, I would soon know if I'm preening myself like a woodcock.
Mas ill non sap qual estrena M'a dada ni cum m'adesca; Quar tant sos pretz sobregensa Qu'il no cre que per temensa Auzes ges de lei aver gaug; Qu'ill es tant nomenativa Tem, si·l o dic, no me vergonh.	But she doesn't know which gift she has given me, nor how she lures me; for her worth is so excellent that she believes that I, out of awe, ought not to ever have happiness from her; for she is so high of rank that I fear, if I declare myself, that she would shame me.
Mas ben grans talans afrena Mon cor, que ses aigua pesca. Pus no·ill o puesc a prezensa Dir, dieus l'en don entendensa A lieys, tal que me torn en gaug! Que·l vers farai (que·m caliva) Dir a lieys a cuy Pretz se jonh.	But a great desire restrains my heart, which fishes without water. Since I cannot tell her to her face, let god give her insight into this, so that it may turn into my happiness! For i shall have this verse (which matters to me) recited to her who is Worth's companion.
Ricx hom suy si l'enten en gaug, Mas ieu no sai per que·m viva Si l'enten e pueys non a sonh.	I shall be the nobler if she listens to it in happiness, but I see no reason to live if she understands it and pays no heed to it.
Non entendray mo mal en gaug? Que·l Bos Respiegz vol qu'ieu viva El mal m'estra don non ai sonh.	Shall I not interpret my suffering as happiness? For Good Expectation wants me to live and takes away my pain, to which I pay no heed.