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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;

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Ricx hom suy si l'enten en gaug,
Mas ieu no sai per que·m viva
Si l'enten e pueys non a sonh.

Non entendray mo mal en gaug?
Que·l Bos Respiegz vol qu'ieu viva
El mal m'estra don non ai sonh.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.