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Savis e fols, humils et orgoillos,
Cobes e larcs e volpills et arditz
Sui qan s'eschai, e gauzens e marritz,
E sai esser plazens et enojos
E vils e cars vilans e cortes,
Avols e bos, e conosc mals e bes,
Et ai de totz bos aips cor e saber,
E qand ren faill fatz o per non poder.

En totz afars sui savis e gignos
Mas midonz am tant q'ie.n sui enfollitz,
Qe.il sui humils on pieitz mi fai e.m ditz
E n'ai orguoill car sai q'es bell' e pros,
E sui cobes c'ab son bel cors jagues
Tant que plus larcs en sui e mieils apres,
E sui volpils car no.n l'aus enquerer
E trop arditz car tant ric joi esper.

Bella dompna, tals gaugz mi ven de vos
Que marritz vauc car non vos sui aizitz,
Car per vos sui als pros tant abellitz
Qu'enojant s'en li malvatz enojos;
Be.m tenrai vil s'ab vos no.m val merces,
Q'ie.m tenc tant car per vos en totas res
Que per vilan m'en fatz als crois tener
E per cortes als pros tant sai valer.

D'amor dis mal e mas autras chansos
Pel mal qe.m fetz la bell' enfanairitz,
Mas vos, dompna, ab totz bos aips complitz,
Mi faitz tans bes q'esmenda m'es e dos,
C'amors e vos m'avetz tal ren promes
Que val cen dos c'autra dompna.m fezes;
Tant valetz mais, per q'ie.us vuoill mais aver,
E.us tem perdre e.us vuoill mais conquerer.

Jois e jovens et avinens faissos,
Dompn', e.l gens cors d'enseignamen noiritz
Vos ant pretz dat, q'es pels meillors auzitz,
E, per ma fe, si m'aventura fos
Q'ieu ni mos chans ni m'amors vos plagues,
Lo mieils de pretz auri' en vos conques
E de beutat, e puosc o dir en ver,
Que per auzir o sai e per vezer.

Bels Cavalliers, chausimens e merces
E.il fin' amors e.il sobrebona fes
Qez eu vos port mi deuria valer
Endreg d'amor, c'autre joi non esper.

Na Biatritz, vostre bel cors cortes
E.il grans beutatz e.l fins pretz q'en vos es
Fai gent mon chan sobre.ls meillors valer,
Car es dauratz del vostre ric pretz ver.

Wise and foolish, humble and proud,
covetous and generous and cravenly and daring
am I when I must, and joyous and desperate,
and I can be courteous and boorish,
and vile and accomplished and rude and kind,
unpleasant and good, and I know good and bad fortune
and have the will and wit for all good qualities,
and when I squarely fail, I do so out of lack of opportunity.

I am wise and ingenious in all matters
but I love my lady so much that I turn to a fool:
the more she abuses me in speech and in deed, the more I am submissive to her,
and I am proud of this because I know that she is comely and noble,
and I crave her body, to lie by it,
so much that I become more generous and kinder,
and am a coward because I dare not ask her,
and too daring because I hope for such a bountiful joy.

Beautiful lady, such happiness comes from you
that I walk in despair because I cannot approach you,
for through you I have become so agreeable to valiant men
that I annoy by it the annoying wretches;
I shall well think of myself as vile if mercy does not prevail with you
for because of you I think of myself as so accomplished in all things
that I make petty men consider me a boor
as much as the valiant consider me courtly.

I speak ill of love in many other songs
because of the injury which the beautiful deceiver inflicted on me,
but you, lady, endowed with all good qualities,
grant me such meed that it is reparation and gift to me,
since you and love have promised me such a thing
as is worth a hundred times what any other woman'd bestow on me.
So much more you are worth, so much more I want to have you,
and fear to lose you, and want to win you.

Joy and youth and charming manners,
lady, and your pleasing person imbibed with wisdom
have given you fame, so that the best listen to you
and, by my troth, if I were so lucky
that you liked me, or my art or my love,
I would have gained the best of worth in you,
and of beauty, too, I may well say
because I know it from my ears and from my eyes.

Beautiful Knight, pity and mercy
and the precious love and supreme devotion
which I offer you should be worth
simple love, because I don't care for other joys.

Dame Biatriz, your beautiful, kindly countenance
and the great beauty and precious worth which are in you
makes my art easily defeat the best,
for it is gilded by your high and true merit.

Note: technically, this poem contains an early, and rather ingenious, example of that "disseminated iteratio" that would became a favourite with some XIX century poets. An explanation can be found in the appropriate part of the prosody guide, along with English (D.H. Lawrence) and French (G. Apollinaire) examples of the same technique.