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Dirai vos en mon lati
De so qu'ieu vei e que vi!
Non cuich que·l segles dur gaire
Segon qu'escriptura di,
Qu'eras faill lo fills al paire
E·l pair' al fill atressi.

Desviatz de son cami
Jovens se torn' a decli,
E Donars qu'era sos fraire,
Va s'en fugen a tapi,
C'anc dons Costans l'enganaire
Joi ni Joven non jauzi.

Soven de pan e de vi
Noiris rics hom mal vezi,
E si·l tengues de mal aire
Segurs es de mal maiti,
Si no·i ment lo gazaignaire
Don lo reproviers issi.

Lo mouniers jutg'al moli:
Qui ben lia ben desli!
E·l vilans ditz tras l'araire:
Bons fruitz eis de bon jardi,
Et avols fills d'avol maire
E d'avol caval rossi.

Eras naisson dui poilli
Beill, burden, ab saura cri
Que·is van volven de blanc vaire
E fan semblan aseni!
Jois e Jovens n'es trichaire
E malvestatz eis d'aqui.

Moillerat, ab sen cabri,
Atal paratz lo coissi
Don lo cons esdeven laire!
Que tals ditz: mos fills me ri
Que anc ren no·i ac a faire:
Gardatz sen ben bedoi.

Re no·m val s'ieu los chasti,
C'ades retornan aqui,
E puois un non vei estraire
Marcabrus d'aquel trahi,
An lo tondres contra·l raire,
Moillerat, del joc coni.

An lo tondres contra·l raire,
Moillerat, del joc coni.

I shall tell you, in my language,
what I see and what I saw!
I don't think the world will last,
according to the Scriptures,
for the son now fails his father
and the father his son, too.

Swayed from his path,
Youth turns to ruin;
and Largesse, who was his brother,
goes running, wretched.
Never did Lady Constance, the deceiver,
enjoy Youth or Joy.

It is often bread and wine
that a rich man feeds a bad neighbour;
and if he has a bad upbringing,
he is sure of a bad morning,
unless the farmhand lies,
whence the saying comes.

The miller sentences, in his mill:
"He who ties well, well unties!"
And the peasant says, behind the plough:
"A good fruit comes of a good garden,
a bad son of bad mother
and, of a bad horse, a hack."

Now two foals are born,
beautiful, prancing, with blond hair
that they are turning from white to vair
while carrying themselves like donkeys.
Joy and Youth have become tricksters
and Wickedness comes thence.

Married people, as horny as goats,
you prepare your pillow so
that the cunt becomes a thief.
And some says, "My son laughed at me"
who has no relation to him:
behold a silly mind!

It is useless to chastise them
because they always get back there
and I, Marcabru, can't see
a single one saved from this:
they trade mowing with shaving,
the married men, in the game of the cunt.

They have mowing instead of shaving,
the married men, in the game of the cunt.