Ar m'er tal un vers a faire Que ja no·m feira fraitura; Qu'ar es enves mi escura Cil qe·m fai mal per ben traire. Adolen, Faillimen Fui, qe·m ven! Ben aic lai doncs pauc de sen S'ieu anc fui ves lieis bauzaire!	Now I have a verse to compose, one that'll never do me wrong; for now she glooms towards me, she who makes me trade evil for good. Wretched, I run away from a fall, for she betrays me. I had indeed very little sense if I ever was deceitful towards her.
Seigner Dieus! Cum aus retraire Tan gran ma desaventura? Mos dols non ac anc mesura Qe·m trastorna·l cor en caire. Si espren Aspramen Mon talen Ira, e·m mou marrimen Quand ieu·m cuig far de joi fraire.	Lord god, how dare I recall such a great misfortune? My grievance was ever measureless, for it throws my heart into confusion. So sorrow, harshly, seizes my desire and anguish overtakes me when I fancy myself joy's brother.
En ploran serai chantaire Puois nuills gaugz no·m asegura,– Car mos Bos Respieitz pejura Que·m val mos chantars? Qu'ar laire. Fol tormen Per parven Vauc seguen S'als non ai mas marrimen E dol e dolor e braire.	I shall be a tearful singer since singing doesn't grant me any happiness – for, if it is to my Bos Respeit's detriment, what good is my song to me? So now I [just] bark. Apparently, I pursue a mad torment when I don't have anything but anguish and pain and grief and lamentation.
Desastrucs nasqiei de maire Puois totz mals mi apejura. Ben es fols qui mal m'agura! Pieitz cum posc aver? pechaire! – Neis qui·m pen Aut al ven A presen Cel tenrai per benvolen Qu'ams los huoills m'en volra traire.	I was born unfortunate, for all ills become worse with me. He is a fool indeed who predicts me ill: How can I be worse off – Bummer! – even if one hangs me high in the wind, right now? I would consider him benevolent, who would wish to gauge both my eyes.
Dolsa dompna de bon aire No·m gitetz tant a non-cura! Ve·us que tolt avetz dreitura S'ab merce·l cors no·us esclaire. Qu'ieu n'aten Chausimen Si·us es gen, Si non faitz me peneden Issir fors de mon repaire.	Sweet lady of high rank, do not cast me into such carelessness! Realise that you have denied justice if you don't enlighten your heart with mercy. For I expect clemency from it, if it pleases you, if you don't make me leave my dwelling as a penitent.
Que, per l'arma de mon paire, Si·l vostre durs cors s'atura, No·m tenra murs ni clausura Q'ieu non iesca de mon aire Mantenen Ves tal sen Don fort len Me veiran mais miei paren. Mas vos non o prezatz gaire.	For, by my father's soul, if your stony heart persists, neither wall nor fence will keep me from exiting my home immediately in such a direction as my relatives will not see me for a long time. But you don't care much about it.
Dompna, cel qui es jutgaire Perdonet gran forfaitura A cel – so ditz l'escriptura – Qe era traicher e laire! Eissamen En son sen, Qui non men E non perdona corren – Ja no·il er Dieus perdonaire	Lady, he who is the judge pardoned a great misdeed to him – so say the scriptures – who was a traitor and thief. Likewise, in his opinion, even if one doesn't lie, if he doesn't pardon right away god will never pardon him.
Per vos am, dompn'ab cor vaire Las autras tant co·l mons dura, Car son en vostra figura; Que per als no·n sui amaire! – Neis la gen Pauc valen, Mal volen, Neis cels qe·us vezon soven! Mas non lor n'aus far vejaire.	Because of you, o lady of fickle heart, I'll love the other women as long as this world lasts, for they are in your own image: for no other reason am I their lover [and] even [that of] people of little worth who wish me ill, even [of] people who see you often; but I don't dare show it to them.
Domna, pren Un coven Avinen:– Si mais paz comandamen Ja no·m perdon neus vejaire.	Lady, accept an honourable pact: if I ever trespass your command, I shall never even forgive myself the intention.
E si·us men En coven Qe·us prezen, Ogan si'eu malamen Entuissequatz ab varaire	And if I lie to you in the pact I propose you, may I then be badly poisoned with veratrum.