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Er quant s'embla·l foill del fraisse
E·l ram s'entressecon pel som
(que per la rusca no·i poja
La dolz'umors de la saba)
E·ill aucel son de cisclar mut
Pel freit que par que·ls destrenga –
Mas ges per aitant no·m remut
Que·l cor no·m traia fait de drut.

Qu'eu reverdisc et engraisse
Quan tot'altr'alegresa rom;
E si tot mos gauz s'enoja
A tal c'a prezen non gaba,
Ges per tant non es remanzut
Qu'ab lei de cui teing Aurenga
No·m aian tan mei prec valgut
Qu'ab si m'a baizan retengut.

Per qu'eu lau qu'us quecs s'en laisse,
Pos malgrat lor n'ai mai del nom;
Qu'er ges neus ni vens ni ploja –
Si sa grans merces m'acaba
Mon car desir qu'ai tan volgut –
No·m pot tolre, ni lauzenga,
L'amor que·i mes ab gran vertut
Deus, quant m'ac asi elegut.

Ha domna! Si ja·m biaisse
Ves vos, ni pren vouta ni tom
Adoncs si'eu pres en boja!
Si ja tan mos cors mescaba,
Qu'al meu tort me virez l'escut!
E cofonda Deus la lenga
Que diz a frau ni a saubut
Re per qu'amdui siam perdut!

Qu'eu non voill que de nos baisse
L'Amors, que ges del dart del plom
No·ns feri (ans sai que voja
De nos tot mal et arraba):
Qu'anc no tant – deu esser crezut –
Doas res – qui que s'en fenga –
No·s ameron – si Deus m'ajut –
Cum nos fam e farem canut.

Ai, dona! Quar tan m'abaisse
Que no·us vey lay on essems fom,
No creyatz que mot no·m coja;
Mas per dig d'una sillaba
Er mantenen reconogut
Tot so qu'az Amor covenga:
Per qu'ieu del ben qu'en agr'agut
Sai e crey qu'ieu n'ai molt perdut.

E ja trobaire no s'eslaisse:
Qu'anc pos Adams manget del pom
No valc – si tot quex s'enbroja –
Lo seus trobars una raba
Ves lo meu que m'a erebut;
Ni taing q'us tan aut s'en prenga, –
Qu'eu ai trobat e cossegut
Lo miels d'amor tant l'ai quesut.

E, qui m'en desmen, tost prenga
Lo bran e la lans'e l'escut,
Q'eu l'en rendrai mort e vencut.

Now when the leaf parts from the ash
and the branches wizen in the treetop
(for, through the bark, the sweet
humour of the sap doesn't mount to them)
and the birds have fallen silent from their warbling
because of the cold that grips them;
but in spite of this all, I'm unshaken
in my bearing myself as a lover.

For I am rejuvenated and prosper
when all other happiness is wasted;
and if all my merriment is saddened
to the point of not boasting openly,
it hasn't, however, kept my pleas
from gaining me that her
from whom I hold Orange
has kept me, kissing, with her.

Therefore it is my will that you all drop the subject,
since in spite of them, I have more than the title [of lover];
for not even snow nor wind nor rain –
if her great mercy grants me
my dear wish that I have so much craved –
nor slander can take away from me
the love that god put there, with great
power, when he chose me so.

Ah, lady! If I ever act deceitfully
towards you or act deviously or fall,
then may I be cast into irons!
If ever my heart fails so much,
may you turn your shield against my wrongs!
And may god confound the tongue
that says, secretly or openly,
things through which we'd both be ruined.

For I don't wish Love to shed
us, for he never wounded us
with the leaden dart (rather, I know he cleanses
us from all evil, and eradicates it):
for never – you must be believe me –
did two things – whoever may pretend otherwise –
love each other – so help me god –
as we do and will [still] do when hoary.

Ah, lady! Just because I pretend
not to see you there where we'd be together,
don't believe that it doesn't much torment me;
but through the voicing of a single syllable
is presently recognised
all that pertains to Love:
because of which I know and believe I have
lost much of the good I could have had.

And let no troubadour defy me:
for since Adam ate the apple
no one's – albeit everyone extols himself –
poetry is worth a turnip
compared to mine, which has exalted me;
nor is it fitting that one fancies himself so lofty,
since I have found and achieved
the best of loves, since I have sought it for so long.

And let he who contradicts me in this take
sword and lance and shield,
for I shall vanquish and kill him for it.