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Domna, tant vos ai preiada,
Si.us plaz, q'amar me voillaz,
Q'eu sui vostr' endomenjaz,
Car es pros et enseignada
E toz bos prez autreiaz;
Per qe.m plai vostr' amistaz.
Car es en toz faiz cortesa,
S'es mos cors en vos fermaz
Plus q'en nulla Genoesa,
Per q'er merces si m'amaz;
E pois serai meilz pagaz
Qe s'era mia.ill ciutaz,
Ab l'aver q'es ajostaz,
Dels Genoes.

Jujar, voi no sei corteso
Qe me chaidejai de zo,
Qe niente no farò.
Ance fossi voi apeso
Vostr' amia non serò.
Certo, ja ve scanerò,
Provenzal malaurao!
Tal enojo ve diro:
Sozo, mozo, escalvao
Ni ja voi non amerò,
Q'eu chu bello marì ò
Qe voi no sei, ben lo so.
Andai via, frar', eu temp'ò
Meillaurà

Domna gent' et essernida,
Gai' e pros e conoissenz,
Valla.m vostr' ensegnamenz,
Car jois e jovenz vos gida,
Cortesi' e prez e senz
E toz bos captenemenz;
Per qe.us sui fidels amaire
Senes toz retenemenz,
Francs, humils e merceiaire,
Tant fort me destreing e.m venz
Vostr' amors, qe m'es plasenz;
Per qe sera chausimenz,
S'eu sui vostre benvolenz
E vostr' amics.

Jujar, voi semellai mato,
Qe cotal razon tegnei.
Mal vignai e mal andei
Non avei sen per un gato,
Per qe trop me deschasei,
Qe mala cosa parei!
Ni no volio qesta cosa,
Si fossi fillo de rei.
Credì voi que sia mosa?
Mia fe, no m'averei!
Si per m'amor ve chevei,
Oguano morrei de frei:
Tropo son de mala lei
Li Provenzal.

Domna, no.m siaz tant fera,
Qe no.s cove ni s'eschai;
Anz taing ben, si a vos plai,
Qe de mo sen vos enqera
E qe.us am ab cor verai,
E vos qe.m gitez d'esmai,
Q'eu vos sui hom e servire,
Car vei e conosc e sai,
Qant vostra beutat remire
Fresca cum rosa en mai,
Q'el mont plus bella no.n sai,
Per qe.us am et amarai,
E si bona fes mi trai,
Sera pechaz.

Jujar, to proenzalesco,
S'eu aja gauzo de mi,
Non prezo un genoì.
No t'entend plui d'un Toesco
O Sardo o Barbarì,
Ni non ò cura de ti.
Voi t'acaveilar co mego?
Si.l savera me' marì,
Mal plait averai con sego.
Bel messer, ver e' ve dì:
No vollo questo latì!
Fraello, zo ve afì.
Proenzal, va, mal vesti,
Largaime star

Domna, en estraing cossire
M'avez mes et en esmai;
Mas enqera.us preiarai
Qe voillaz q'eu vos essai,
Si cum Provenzals o fai,
Qant es pojatz.

Jujar, no sero con tego,
Pos' asi te cal de mi!
Meill varà, per sant Martì,
S'andai a ser Opetì,
Que dar v'a fors' un roncì,
Car sei jujar.

Lady, so much I have endeared you,
an you please, to grant me your love
since you have me in thrall,
because you are valiant and noble,
and gifted with all good virtues;
For this I like your friendship.
Because you are kind in all actions,
my heart is taken by you
more than by any other Genoese,
so it'll be mercy if you love me;
And then I'd be better repaid
than if that city were mine
along with the wealth hoarded
by the Genoese.

Jester, you are not courteous
that harass with this me,
who shall do nothing.
Rather, go get hanged:
I shan't be your friend.
Instead, I'll slit your throat,
ill-bred Provençal!
I'll insult you thus:
filthy, scabby dunce
I'll never love you,
I, who have a husband more handsome
than you are, and know it well.
Go away, brother, I have
it better with him.

Lady, kind and wise,
merry and valiant and learned,
your knowledge be of help to me,
since joy and youth conduct you,
along with kindness, worth and sense
and all good manners;
Since I'm to you a faithful suitor
without any reserve
earnest, humble and pleading,
so strongly grips me and wins me
your love, which pleases me;
Therefore it will be the best choice
if I am welcome
and your friend.

Jester, you sound insane
when keeping to such a reasoning.
Badly you come, and badly go away:
you don't have brains to match a cat,
for this reason you displease me too much,
it looks like a rotten thing!
Nor would I like this thing
if you were a king's son.
Do you think I am a fool?
By my faith, you shan't have me.
If you'd pawned my love,
this year you'd die of cold:
too much is the ill will
of the Provençal.

Lady, don't be so cruel to me,
it isn't meet, it doesn't fit you!
Instead, what is proper, if you like,
is that I beg you through my wit
and that I love you with a true heart,
and that you take my dejection away
since I am your man and servant,
because I see and remember and know,
when I contemplate your beauty,
fresh as a rose in May,
that I don't know any fairer one in the World,
for this I love you and will love you
and if good will betrays me
it shall be a sin.

Jester, your Provençal
-may I rejoice-
isn't worth a penny to me.
I don't understand you more than a German
or Sardinian or Berber
nor do I care about you.
Do you want to wrangle with me?
If my husband knows it,
you'll have a bad time with him.
Nice chap, I'll tell you, in truth:
I don't want this talk!
Brother, be sure.
Go, ragged Provençal,
leave me alone.

Lady, to a strange concern
you have stirred me, and to anguish;
But still, I shall beg you
that you consent to assay
how a Provençal does it
when mounting.

Jester, I shan't be with you;
but since you care so much for me,
you'd better, by St. Martin,
go to Sir Obizzino,
who will perhaps give you a nag,
since you are a jester.

Note: in this poem, only the part in which Raimbaut speaks is in Provençal. The woman answers him in Genoese dialect.