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Ben sai c'a sels seria fer
Que·m blasmon qar tan soven chan
Si lor costavon mei chantar.
Meils m'estai
Pos leis plai
Que·m te jai
Qu'ieu no chant mia per aver:
Qu'ieu n'enten en autre plazer.

E per als m'en cug plus anquer:
Quar tan soven com en chantan
No la puesc auzen totz nomnar.
E pueis ai
Tan gran jai
Quan quex brai
So qu'ieu dic, c'adonx cug tener
Dieu, o lieis don me volh temer.

Bo·m sap qi de midonz m'enquier,
Q'ieu no i faz ges feignien semblan;
E creis m'en gaugz cant n'aug parlar;
Neus de lai
On no·s fai
Noms, me trai
Qant diretz de lieis tal plazer –
Cossi·us n'era datz grans aver.

Gran esfort fai Dieus, qar sofer
C'ab si no la'npueja baizan!
Mas no·m vol tolre ni tort far;
Ni s'eschai
Qu'en esmai
For'ieu sai.
Mas lieis no pren, no·m cal temer
Que ja autr'ill plassa tener.

Si ben en amar leis m'esmer,
Qu'ieu sai, que si pel mon s'espan,
C'autras m'en faran faiturar.
Don m'esglai:
Qu'en farai?
Donx mon gran ben ab jauzen ver?
Oc! Si n'era mieus lo poder.

Mas tostems fo e tostems er
Que grans amors no te guaran.
Grans meravillas son d'amar!
Que·n dirai
S'amors chai
Qar van bai?
Ai las! Ja no m'o lais vezer
Sel Dieus que·m n'a datz jauzen ser!

C'aisi tiron ves man esquer
Sill ric que plus cortes se fan
C'ades ponhon en lauzenjar;
E·ill verai
Son en plai,
Quar, i a trai,
Sel c'a semblan sen ferm poder
Par cortes, si nonca s'es ver.

Dona, vostre domini ser
Crezetz me, qu'ie·us am ses engan,
E membre·us plus que l'encuzar
Li dous bai...
Ar morrai!
Si dic mai!
Ai co·m fail quan pes del dous ser
Lo sens e l'auzir e·l vezer!

Quan la candela·m fetz vezer
Vos baizan rizen, a! Cal ser!

Joglar, ades mati e ser
Me tira·l cors vostre vezer.

I know well that it would be hard
on those who blame me because I sing so often
if my songs cost them money.
This suits me better,
for it pleases her
who keeps me merry
that I do not sing for wealth,
that I engage in a different pleasure.

I rather worry about something else:
for I cannot name her when all listen
as often as I sing.
And since I have
such great joy
when somebody cries out
what I say, I feel as if I possessed
god, or her about whom I wish to hide my thoughts.

He who asks me about my lady pleases me,
for I don't disguise, in that case, my expression;
and when I hear about her, my joy increases;
even when
one doesn't mention
the name, all
one may say about her brings me as much pleasure
as if one were given great wealth.

God shows great fortitude, for he refrains
from raising her to himself to kiss her!
But he doesn't want to take her away from me, nor to wrong me;
not it is fitting
that I be, down here
in dismay.
Since he doesn't take her, there's no ground to worry
that it'd please him to keep another woman.

I so perfect myself in loving her
that I know, that if it is known around,
other women will use charms on me.
For which reason I worry:
what shall I do?
Shall I hide,
then, my great good with its happy truth?
Yes! If the power to do so be mine.

But it ever was and ever shall it be
that great love knows no constraints.
Wondrous things come of love!
What shall I say
if love declines
when kisses are gone?
Alas, may god, who has given me a happy
evening, never let me see that moment!

Those parvenus who fancy themselves courteous
pull so much towards the left hand [sic]
that they have now taken to slandering;
and the true ones
are at stake
because, for a while,
those who have appearance without fundament,
seem courteous, although they truly aren't.

Lady, believe me,
your feudal serf, for I love you without deception,
and remember, more than the allegations,
the sweet kiss...
Now shall I die
if I say more!
Oh! how do they fail me, when I think of that sweet evening,
my sense, my hearing and my sight!

When the candle made me see
you, kissing and laughing, Oh! What an evening!

Joglar, my heart pushes me to see you
morning, noon and night.