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Ar vei bru, escur, trebol cel
Don per l'air vent'e giscl'e plou,
E chai neus e gels e gibres,
E·l sol qu'era cautz, ferms e durs
Es sa calors teun'e flaca,
E fuelh e flors chai jos dels rams
Si que en plais ni en blaca
Non aug chans, ni critz mas dins murs;
Per qu'ieu chantarai alques grams.

Mas aura ni plueja ni gel
No·m tengran plus que·l gen temps nou
S'auzes desplejar mos libres
De fag d'amor ab digz escurs;
So don plus Temers m'es jaca
Qu'Ira·m fes dir midons e clams;
Que mais d'amor don m'estaca
No chantari'ab nulhs agurs
Tro plais vengues entre nos ams.

Mas d'aisso que·m sap pro a fel
Puesc chantar, don grans mals mi mou:
Dels fals, plus ponhens que gibres,
Envejos, parliers, mals tafurs,
Q'us quex ponha, et ataca
Com als fis drutz sia Joys lams;
Et on qu'aia porc ni vaca
Ilh n'auran pro, e·l vis er purs;
E pueys fan grans critz, rotz e brams.

Qu'ieu sai un trachor mal fizel
Que par qu'aia sen meins q'un bou
Et es ben dels regoibres
Quar ponha cum traia segurs
Son senhor que·l cor l'ensaca;
E s'er'entoisseguatz els cams
No·s cug que·l quezes tiriaca,
Ans li querri'ab totz aturs
Com lo pendes ab fortz liams.

Quar anc Caim, qu'acis Abel,
No saup de tracion un ou
Contra lieis, – mas ieu par ibres,
Quar li dic so don sui madurs,
Si·m carga lo col e·m maca;
Mas tan me dol la pen'e la fams
Quan me soven de la raca
Non aus parlar neis dels perjurs
De lieis, quan me membra·l satams.

E si·m saubra·l chantars a mel
Ab mon vers qu'ai fait pres d'an nou,
Quan guarengals e gingibres
An lur sazo ab mains gasurs,
E Mos Estreups qu'es part Jaca
No faria tal per dos dams,
En aquesta rima braca,
Ab qu'en fos sieus Acres e Surs,
E de sai Peitaus e Roams.

Qu'er si be·s fer de l'Esclaca
S'il no men ab sos diz escurs
Si sui cel que i serai lams.

Mos vers, qu'enaici s'estaca,
Volgra que'm fos portaz segurs
A Demoniad'e que·l fos grams.

Now I see cloudy, dark, stormy skies
wherefore the air is crossed by wind, squalls and rain;
and snow, ice and frost fall
and the sun, which was hot, strong and harsh,
its heat is now weak and feeble,
and the foliage and flowers fall from the branches
so that neither in hedge nor in grove
a song is heard, nor [are] cries, except indoors:
whence I shall sing rather wretchedly.

But gale or rain or cold
wouldn't hold me back more than the gentle springtime
if I dared open my books
of deeds of love in obscure sayings,
that from which Restraint prevents me
although Frustration made me mention my lady and complain;
for I ought never to sing of love,
to which she binds me, in any guise
until an agreement were reached between us.

But I can sing of that which is
most bitter, and from which a great ill moves against me:
of the false, more biting than vipers,
envious, talkative, evil cheats,
for each one ponders and seeks
how joy can disappear from the faithful in a flash;
and wherever is pork or beef,
they'll have their fill, and their wine will be undiluted;
and afterwards, they will greatly cry, rumble and roar.

For I know an unfaithful traitor [Cupid?]
who seems to have less sense than an ox
and is indeed uncouth,
for it ponders how to safely betray
his lord, whose heart he ensnares;
and if his lord is poisoned in the field
let none imagine that he'd seek an antidote for him,
rather, he'd seek with all his arts
how to bind him with strong bonds.

For even Cain, who killed Abel,
knew a minnow's worth about treachery
compared to him – but I sound drunk,
for I tell him the reason I have aged,
that he burdens my back and bludgeons me so;
but sorrow and hunger ail me so,
when I recall the unworthy woman,
that I don't dare talk about the perjury
concerning her, when that devil comes back to me.

And, indeed, my singing would be honeyed,
in this verse of mine which I wrote around New Year,
when the galangal and ginger
have their season of many gluttons,
and My Stirrup, who is around Jaca
would not do, even for two harms,
such as in this lowly rhyme,
even if it earned him Acre and Tyre
and, around here, Poitiers and Rouen.

For now, as well as de l'Esclaca strikes,
(if he doesn't lie with his ambiguous speeches)
so am I indeed the one who shall suffer in it.

I would like this verse, which
I finish here, to be safely carried
to the Devilish Woman, and to be grievous to her.