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| prosody | miscellaneous |
Ab gai so cundet e leri fas motz e capus e doli, que seran verai e sert quan n'aurai passat la lima, qu'Amor marves plan e daura mon chantar que de lieis mueu cui Pretz manten e governa. Tot jorn melhur e esmeri quar la gensor am e coli del mon, so'us dic en apert: sieu so del pe tro qu'al cima e si tot venta'ill freg'aura, l'amor qu'ins el cor mi pleu mi ten caut on plus iverna. Mil messas n'aug en proferi e'n art lum de cer'e d'oli que Dieu m'en don bon acert de lieis on no'm val escrima; e quan remir sa crin saura e'l cors qu'a graile e nueu mais l'am que qui'm des Luzerna. Tan l'am de cor e la queri qu'ab trop voler cug l'am toli, s'om ren per trop amar pert, que'l sieu cors sobretrasima lo mieu tot e non s'aisaura: tan n'a de ver fag renueu q'obrador n'ai'e taverna. No vuelh de Roma l'emperi ni qu'om m'en fassa postoli qu'en lieis non aia revert per cui m'art lo cors e'm rima; e si'l maltrait no'm restaura ab un baizar anz d'annueu, mi auci e si enferna. Ges pel maltrag que'n soferi de ben amar no'm destoli; si tot mi ten en dezert per lieis fas lo son e'l rima: piegz tratz, aman, qu'om que laura, qu'anc non amet plus d'un hueu sel de Moncli Audierna. Ieu sui Arnautz qu'amas l'aura e cas la lebre ab lo bueu e nadi contra suberna. |
On a nice, gleeful and happy melody I write, and polish and plane words that will be true and certain when I have filed them smooth, since Love soon levigates and gilds my song, which moves from her upon whom Worth wakes and rules. Every day I improve and polish, because I love and crave for the kindest one in the world: here I tell you openly I'm hers from head to heel, and even if the cold wind blows, the love that rains in my heart keeps me the warmer the colder it is. I attend and offer a thousand masses, and burn candles of wax and of tallow for God to gift me with success with her with whom fencing is useless; and when I see her blond hair, her body lean and fresh, I love her more than [I would] one who'd give me Luzerne. So much I love her and want her in my heart that I fear to lose her out of excessive desire, (if one can lose something out of excessive love) because her heart overcomes mine and doesn't part from it: so, indeed, she holds me like the inn holds the worker. I don't want the throne of Rome nor to be made Pope if I can't find refuge near her for whom my heart burns and flares; and if she doesn't correct the wrong with a kiss within a year, she kills me and damns herself. In spite of the pain I endure, I don't sway from loving well; even if she deserts me, I write melody and rhyme for her: I suffer more loving than one who labours because, compared to me, the one from Moncli didn't love Audierna more than an egg. I am Arnaut who hoard the air and hunt the hare with the ox and swim against the flow. |