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Tals renha dezavinen,
Quar non conois sa foudatz
O leu, quar non es blasmatz,
Qui renharia avinen
Ab que·il fos dig o si blasme·n avia.
Per qu'ieu, Amors, plus no·us en celaria,
Qu'om non ama selh cui cela son dan:
Tot es grans dans quant hom fai malestan,
E vos falhetz trop mal per no-saber
O quar ben leu no·n cujatz blasm'aver:
Mas no·us puesc far puois menhs que vostre sia.

Qu'al menhs vos farai parven
Qu'ieu conosc que mal renhatz;
E conosc sol, m'entendatz,
Los falhs que faitz ab non-sen.
Celera·us en, mas ben leu ja seria
Que vergonha vos en castiaria;
Qu'anc sempre vei que tug li fin aman
Son mortz per vos o·n son tan malanan
Qu'en perdon joi e solatz e saber;
Et anc un fals no·us en vi dechazer:
Mas ieu vuelh mais morir fins que fals sia.

Atressi mon essien,
Deu hom esser encolpatz
De falhimen, cum lauzatz
De so que fai ben e gen.
Qu'atressi tanh blasmes en vilania
Cum fai lauzors, certas, en cortezia.
Amors, pro·us ai dig ara per semblan,
E dic a vos, bona domna, cui blan,
Que ja no vuelh me fassatz nulh plazer
S'ieu falh vas vos, rics ni ab non-poder,
Si doncs del tot de mo sen non issia.

Ja per so, donna plazen,
Mon dan per so no sofratz.
Que cum sai esser senatz
En cobrir mon pessamen
Quant ieu·l conosc, atressi cobriria
Joi, si de vos, bona domna ·m venia.
E mi meteus non am per ren als tan
Cum fatz quar viu per far vostre coman.
Eu vos am tan que plus fort m'alezer
En sol pensar que m'en pot escazer,
Que no·n fera per don d'autra que sia.

Jes eu, dompna, no·us repren,
Pero ben dic qu'es vertatz
Que dompna reigna mieills assatz
Que·l seu acorra breumen,
Que cill que lonc temps lo ten en fadia.
Eu dic e sai que mais valria
Que dompna·l sieu acorregues enan
La mort que pois, car sitot a talan
De revenir, pois, non a jes poder.
Ni d'autra part no·m pot jois escazer
D'amor ni d'als, don tant adrech me sia.

Ja per paor, dompna, si·m viraria
.................[-ia]
No·m fossetz plus guerriers d'aissi enan,
Vos et Amors, que jes non vuoill en tan
Volver mon cor mas al vostre plazer,
E cel qu'o fai no·i deu jes dan aver,
Ni eu meteus, a cui platz qu'aissi sia.

Some behave unpleasantly
because they don't know their own folly
(or [know it] but a little) because they are not blamed
[and] the same would behave pleasantly
if they were told, or blamed for it.
For this, Love, I will not hide it from you any longer,
for one doesn't love one to whom he hides his grievance:
everything unbecoming one does is great harm
and you do too much bad out of ignorance
or because you believe you'll easily escape blame:
but, then, I can't make it less yours.

For, at least, I'll make it clear
that I know that you behave badly;
and I only know, understand me,
the faults you commit out of lack of wisdom.
I wouldn't have mentioned it, but it'd soon happen
that shame would castigate you for it;
for I always see that all the fine lovers
have died for you or are in such bade shape
that they lose their joy and solace and sense;
and I've never seen a false [lover] waste this way:
but I'd rather die fine than be false.

Nonetheless, in my opinion
one must be accused
of his errors as well as praised
for that he does well and nobly.
For blame suits villany
just as much as praise does courtesy.
Love, it seems to me I have said enough,
and I tell you, good lady, whom I flatter,
that I don't want you to do me any favour
if I fail you–rich or powerless as I may be–
unless I am completely out of my mind.

With all that, pleasant lady,
don't tolerate that I come to harm!
For, just as I can be sensible
and hide my preoccupations
when I know them, I would, likewise, hide
joy, if it came from you, good lady.
And I don't love myself for any other reason as much
as I do because I live to do what you bid.
And I love you so much that I am more relieved
by merely thinking what could happen to me
than I would for the favour of any other [lady].

I never, lady, ever reproach you,
but I tell you that it's true
that a lady behaves much better
who gives relief to her own presently
than the one who keeps them hanging for a long time.
I say, and know, that it is more suitable
for a lady to succour her own before
they die than after because, wish as she may
to redeem, afterwards, she has no chance.
Nor can joy, of love or other, befall me
from any other side that would be as just.

If I ever, lady, I turned away out of fear,
.................
Don't be, from now on, my enemies,
you and Love, for I don't ever want to turn
my heart away from your whims,
and he who does so must not ever come to harm
nor must I myself, whoever may be pleased with that.