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Er vei vermeills, vertz, blaus, blancs, gruocs,
vergiers, plais, plans, tertres e vaus;
e'il votz dels auzels son'e tint
ab doutz acort maitin e tart:
so'm met en cor q'ieu colore mon chan
d'un'aital flor don lo fruitz si'amors
e jois lo grans e l'olors d'enuo gandres.

D'Amor mi pren penssan lo fuocs
e'l desiriers doutz e coraus,
e'l mals es saboros q'ieu sint,
e'il flama soaus on plus m'art,
c'Amors enquier los sieus d'aital semblan,
verais, francs, fis merceians, parcedors,
car a sa cort notz orguoills e val blandres.

Mas mi no camja temps ni luocs,
cosseils, aizina, bes ni maus;
e s'ieu al meu enten vos mint,
ja mais la bella no'm regart,
q'el cor e'l sen tenc dormen e veillan,
qu'eu non vuoill ies, mas per gein treu aillors,
esser ses lieis on plus valc Alixandres.

Maintas vetz m'es solatz enuocs
ses lieis, car de liei vuoill sivaus
ades dir lo carton o'l qint
qe'l cor non vir vaus autra part;
per so n'ai d'als pensamen ni talan,
qu'il m'es de totz los bos sabers sabors
e vei l'el cor ser'en Poll'o en Flandres.

Mout desir qu'eu si'enqer sos cuocs
on m'escaia aitals jornaus
qu'ien vuria be d'anz plus vint,
tan me te'l cor baut e gaillart:
ben son donc fols! que vau aillors cercan?
que eu non vuoil, lai on son las ricors,
baillir que clauon Tigris e Meandres.

Entr'autres fatz soven feinz juocs,
e'l jorns sembla'm us anoaus,
e pesa'm, car Dieus no'm cossint
com pogues temps breujar ab art,
que loncs respiegs fai languir fin aman:
lun'e soleills, trop faitz lonc vostre cors!
Pesa'm car plus sovens no'us faill resplandres.

A lieis cui son vai chanssons, derenan,
c'Arnautz non sap comtar sas grans ricors
que d'aussor sen li auria ops espandres.

I see scarlet, green, blue, white, yellow
gardens, bushes, plains, hills and valleys;
and the birds' voices sound and echo
with sweet chords, morning and evening:
this puts in my heart that I colour my song
with a flower such that its fruit will be love
and joy the seed and the scent a shield against sadness.

Thinking, Love's fire takes me
and sweet, deep desire;
and it's tasty, the pain that I feel
and the more it burns me the more pleasant the flame is,
since Love asks his subjects to be so:
true, earnest, faithful and prone to pleading
since in its court pride harms, and flattery's prized.

But I'm not changed by place or by time,
advice, chance (good nor ill);
and if I lie to you by purpose,
may she never look upon me, the fair one
that I hold in my heart while sleeping and waking,
since I don't want at all (my affairs being pretended)
to be, without her, where most flared Alexander.

Many times my merriment is boring,
without her, and of her I will at least
tell now the fourth or fifth part
since to no other side I turn my heart,
since of nothing else I have longing or wish
since she's the greatest of all my pleasures
and I see her in my heart, even if I'm in Flandres or in Puglia.

I crave to be but her cook
so as to get such an income
that'd make me live well for more than twenty years,
so much she keeps my heart merry and happy:
I'm such a fool! what am I looking for?
since I don't want, there where riches are,
to behold what Tigris and Meander enclose.

Among the others often I pretend to play,
and the day looks like a spleen,
and it grieves me that God doesn't let me
shorten time at will,
since a long wait make the lover languish:
Moon and Sun, too long you run your course!
It grieves me that your light doesn't dim more often.

Now go, song to the one I belong to,
of which Arnaut cannot show the virtues
since for that he would have display a higher wit.