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Assatz es or' oimai q'eu chan;
Tant ai estat acondurmitz
C'anc mos chanz non fon lueing auzitz,
Mas era·m vau ja reveilhan,
Et irai mon joi recobran
Contre l'ivern e·l freig aurei.

De joi no·m cal fugir enan,
C'anc un sol jorn no·n fui garnitz,
Et es m'al cor prion sorzitz,
Si qu'entre gens vau sospiran
Lo dezirier c'ai d'amor gran,
Ni dorm ni veil, ni aug ni vei.

S'anc per amor anei velhan,
Ni·n fui anc fols ni trassailitz,
Ni cambiatz per chamjairitz,
Era·n lau Dieu e saint Joan,
C'ab tal amor vau amoran
C'anc non chamjec per autre mei.

Cesta non cug qe ja m'engan
S'ieu ja de leis no soi grazitz,
Ni no·n soi tant afolatitz
Que ja re·il qeira ni·l deman,
Petit ni pro, ni tan ni qan,
Ni mal ni be, ni so ni qei.

Tant la vei coinda e prezan,
E·l faigz de leis es tant eslitz
Qe sai me tenc per enreqitz
E lai serai en son coman
La nueh e·l jorn e·l mes e l'an,
C'aissi soi sieus com esser dei.

Plas es lo vers, vauc l'afinan
Ses mot vila, fals, apostitz,
E es totz enaissi bastitz
C'ap motz politz lo vau uzan,
E tot ades va·s meilluran
S'es qi be·l chant ni be·l desplei.

It's high time for me to sing;
I have been slumbering so long
that my music wasn't heard far away anymore,
but now I am waking up,
and I will keep retrieving my joy
against the Winter and the cold north wind.

I should not shun again that joy,
for it didn't shine on me a single day
but today it springs deep in my heart
so that I go through people sighing
the desire that I have of a great love
and I can't sleep nor stay awake, nor hear nor see because of it.

If ever I was kept awake by love
or startled and driven insane,
or changed by a changing woman,
now – be god and Saint John be praised! –
I go loving with a love such
as I'd never trade it for another one.

I don't think this one deceives me
albeit I am not yet in her good graces,
nor have I lost my reason over her so much
that I'd ask or entreat her for anything,
small or great, here or there,
bad or good, this way or that.

I see her, so graceful and worthy,
and in her deeds is such distinction
that here I consider myself enriched
and there I shall be at her beck and call
night and day and [every] month and [every] year
for I am hers as I must be.

The verse is simple, and I am refining it
without trivial, false or preposterous words;
and it is put together so
that there aren't but elegant words in it,
and now it is still improving
if there is someone to sing and present it well.

Note: for mysterious reasons, Jeanroy calls this piece a "Chanson Pieuse" (literally, a pious song).