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Meravilh me de tot fin amador
Cossi d'amor se pot far malanans,
E·m meravilh cossi·n sent hom dolor
E·m meravilh cossi n'es hom clamans.
Qu'ieu dic que mais n'a de ben que de mal
Selh qui meinhs n'a, mas pero bes no val
Ren a selhui cui als ops falh sos sens;
Qu'assatz trob'om d'omes entre la gens
Que se sabon, quan re perdon, marrir
E del gazanh no·s sabon esjauzir.
Nulhs hom no viu ni renha ab amor
Que no sia cortes e gen parlans,
Larcs e adregz e creissens de valor,
E no valha ab amor cent aitans
Com faria, s'estav'en sol cabal.
El pretz qu'en a, quar es pros e quar val,
Emenda·lh ben las penas e·l turmens
Et atressi deu pueis esser jauzens
De l'autre ben qu'en espera jauzir.
Et enaissi pot la clamor delir.
Son bon amic deu hom e son senhor
Servir, si tot lo benfaitz no·n es grans,
E no·s tanh ges, ab qu'om no·i perd' onor,
Que ja·lh sia greus a suffrir l'afans.
Qu'el mon non a tan avinen captal
Cum pretz - qui l'a - e pretz a selh qui val,
Et ab amor pot hom esser valens.
Doncs, pus d'amor mou totz ensenhamens
Ab qu'om se pot honrar et enantir
Si eis aunis selh que no·l vol servir.
Aissi cum an pretz li bon servidor
E cum los fai honrar lur bons talans,
Atretal an bon gazardonador,
Et aitant mais cum l'onors es plus grans.
Dui fin amic devon esser engal
En ben amar, pero selh qui mais val
Ni qui mais pot ni es plus avinens
Deu un pauc mais destrenher chauzimens.
Amors - ben sap ma donna que vuelh dir;
Aissi·m des ill a tostemps que grazir.
Vostra beutatz, ma dompna, ·m fai paor,
Mas ieu·m conort en vostres belhs semblans,
E temi trop, donna, vostra ricor,
Mas conort me quar vos platz que·us enans;
E temi trop quar vos sai tan cabal,
Mas conort me quar vostre pretz tan val;
E temi trop quar es a totz plazens,
Mas conort me quar es tan conoissenz;
E temi trop quar vos aug escondir,
Mas ieu·m conort, domn', el gent aculhir.
Lausenjador, mais qu'a negunas gens
Voi des grazir, s'ieu d'amor sui jauzens,
Quar mout m'avetz celat ab gen mentir
E mielhs cubert qu'ieu no·m saubra cubrir.
Coms de Tolza, vassalatges e sens,
giens et esfors, richs cors et ardimens
Vos an dat pretz que·us fai a totz grazir.
Pero del pretz es tot el ben fenir.
I wonder, as a truly fine lover,
how one can be made wretched through love
and I wonder how one can be pained by it
and I wonder how one can bemoan it.
For I say that one gets more good of it than bad
in the worst case, but good is worth
nothing to one who, in the right moment, loses his senses;
for one finds nuff men among people
who know how to despair when they lose something
and don't know how to enjoy their gain.
No man lives or rules with love
who is not courteous and articulate,
generous, adroit and ever-increasing in valour,
and who isn't worth with love a hundred times
what he'd be if he were on his own.
And the prize he gets, being valiant and worthy,
well recompenses for the pains and torments
and he must also rejoyce as well
in the other good that he hopes to enjoy.
And thus can the complaint shrink to nothing.
One must serve his good lover
and his lord, even if the reward isn't great,
and it doesn't suit him at all, lest he thus loses his honour,
that he finds it grievous to bear the toil.
For the world doesn't have as beautiful a treasure
as virtue—for those who have it—and he who is valiant has virtue,
and, with love, one can be valiant.
Then, since from love comes all learning
with which one can honour and better himself,
he who doesn't want to serve him debases himself.
Just as good servants are worthy
and as one celebrates their good will,
the same is true of those who reward well,
and even more, because the honour is greater.
Two fine lovers must be equal
in loving well, but the one who is worth more
and has more power and is more comely
must make a slightly greater effort.
Love, my lady knows well what this means;
may she thus give me something to thank her forever!
Your beauty, lady, scares me,
but I find comfort in your beautiful manners,
and I fear much, lady, your standing,
but I find comfort in that you like for me to extol you;
and I fear much that I know you to be so powerful,
but I find comfort because your virtue is so precious;
and I fear much that you are liked by everybody
but I find comfort because you are so discerning;
and I fear much that I hear you scorn me
but I find comfort, lady, in your kind welcoming.
Slanderers, more than anybody else,
I must thank you if I am happily in love:
for you have hidden me well with kindly lying
and disguised me better than I'd know how to disguise myself.
Count of Tolosa, vassalage and discernment,
skill and energy, generous heart and daring
have given you virtue that makes you dear to everyone.
But, when it comes to virtue, a happy ending is everything.