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Eissamen ai gerreiat ab amor
Co.l francs vassals gerrei' ab mal seignor,
Qe.il tol sa terr' a tort, per que.l gerreia,
E qan conois qe.il gerra pro no.il te,
Pel sieu cobrar ven puois a sa merce.
Et eu ai tant de joi cobrar enveia
C'ad amor qier merce del sieu pechat
E mon orgoill torn en humilitat.

Gauch ai cobrat, merce de la meillor,
Qe.m restaura la dan q'ai pres aillor,
E s'amistat per plaich d'amor m'autreia
Ma bella dompn' e per sieu mi rete
E.m promet tant per qe.l reprovier cre
Que ditz: "qui ben gerreia, ben plaideia";
Q'en chantan ai ab amor gerreiat
Tant c'ab midonz n'ai meillor plait trobat.

El mon non a rei ni emperador
Q'en lieis amar non agues plaich d'onor,
Car sa valors e sos pretz seignoreia
Sobre totas las pros dompnas c'om ve,
Car mieills s'enanss' e plus gen si capte
E mieills acuoill e mieills parl' e dompneia,
E mostr' als pros son pretz e sa beutat,
Salva s'onor, e reten de totz grat.

Dompna, ben sai, si merces no.m socor,
Qu'eu non vaill tant qe.us taign' ad amador,
Car tant valetz, per que mos cors feuneia
Car non puosc far tant rics faitz co.us cove
A mi qe.us am; empero no.m recre
De vos amar, que vassals, puois derreia,
Deu poigner tant tro fassa colp honrat,
Per q'ie.us enquis pois m'aguetz conseill dat.

S'ieu non sui rics segon vostra ricor
Ni pro valens a vostra gran valor,
Mon poder fatz, e sui cel qe.us merceia
E.us serv e.us blan e vos am mais que re
E.m gart de mal e m'esfortz de tot be
Per vostr' amor, e mieills mi par que deia
Pros dompn' amar bon cavallier prezat
Endreich d'amor c'un ric outracujat.

Vostre beill huoill plazen, galiador,
Rizon d'aisso don eu sospir e plor,
E l'adreitz cors q'ades genss' e coindeia
M'auci aman, tals enveia m'en ve!
E si ab vos non trob amor e fe,
Mais no.m creirai en ren c'auia ni veia,
Ni.m fiarai en dompna d'aut barat,
Ni ja non vuoill c'autra.m don s'amistat.

Bels Cavalliers, vostr' amors mi guerreia,
E prec merce e franc' humilitat
C'aissi.us venssa cum vos m'avetz sobrat.

Na Beatritz, las melhors an enveya
De vostre pretz e de vostra beutat,
Que gensa vos e.l don de Monferrat.

I have waged war on love the same way
a noble vassal wages war on an evil suzerain
who takes his land wrongfully, so that the vassal fights him
and when he realises that such a fight can't be fruitful,
he sues for pardon to regain his rights.
And I have such a craving to regain joy
that I ask Love to forgive its own wrongs
and I turn my pride into humility.

I have regained happiness by the mercy of the best,
who compensates me of the loss I have suffered elsewhere.
My comely lady grants me her friendship
in a generous settlement and retains me as her suitor
and promises me so much that I believe the adage
which says: "Who fights well settles well";
For I have fought so much with my songs
that I have found a better settlement with my lady.

This world doesn't know king or emperor
who wouldn't have, in loving her, an honourable settlement,
since her merit and worth rule
over all the prized women one can see,
for she stands up higher and carries herself more graciously
and entertains better, and discourses and practices the courtly ways better,
and shows to the valiant her worth and her beauty,
guards her honour and commands everyone's approval.

Lady, I know well, if compassion doesn't rescue me,
that I'm not worth of being kept as your lover,
because you are worth so much, that in my heart there is frustration
because I cannot accomplish such high deeds as it behoves
me, who love you; however, I don't desist
from loving you, for the warrior, once he has left his ranks,
must fight until he lands an honourable blow,
and that is why I sought you after you had advised me.

Even if I am not as high-born as befits your rank,
nor as valiant as [befits] your merit,
I do all I can, and I am the one who entreats you
and serves you and blandishes you and loves you more than anything;
and I keep from misconduct and strive towards all that is honourable
out of love for you; and I think it is more sensible
that a lady of rank loves a good, reputable knight,
(when love is concerned) than a presumptuous nobleman.

Your beautiful eyes which cozen and deceive
laugh at what makes me sigh and weep,
and your upright person, which is ever lovelier and finer,
kills me with love, such is the longing it stirs in me!
And if I don't find love and truth in you,
I shall never believe anything I hear or see,
nor trust a woman of high position,
nor desire that another one bestows her favour on me.

Beautiful Knight, your love fights me,
and I beg that mercy and simple grace
may conquer you as you have vanquished me.

Dame Beatriz, the best [ladies] envy
your worth and your beauty,
which gives lustre to you and to the lord of Monferrato.