| prosody | miscellaneous |
Bel m'es quan la fuelh' ufana En l'auta branquilha E·l rossinholets s'afana Desotz la ramilha Que·l platz frims, a la luguana, Del chant que grezilha. Quecx auzels quez a votz sana De chantar s'atilha, E s'esforsa si la rana Lonc la fontanilha, E·l chauans ab sa chauana, S'als non pot, grondilha. Sesta creatura vana D'amor s'aparilha, Lur joys sec la via plana E·l nostre bruzilha! Quar nos, qui plus pot enguana, Per qu'usquecx buzilha. Volpils lengua traversana Qu'a lairo cossilha, Ab sa messorgua baussana Desert' ez essilha, So per qu'amor segurana Non truep ses ruylha. Jovens feuney' e trefana E Donars becilha, Saubud' es causa certana Que Valors guancilha, E Maluestatz va sobrana La mair' e la filha. Pieger es que gualiana Amors que guespilha, Cruzels cozens e baiana Calens e frezilha Quar molt tratz mal e safrana Selhuy cui estrilha. Sist falsa gent crestiana Qu'en crim pec fremilha, A la fi ves Corrossana Vira l'escobilha, Que·l baptismes de Jordana Lur notz e·ls perilha. |
I love when the leaf seems proud in the high, small branch and the nightingale gets busy under the twigs as it enjoys, in the moonlight, to vibrate its sparkling song. Each bird with a healthy voice prepares to sing; the frog, too, makes an effort along the fountain, and the owl with his owless, if he can't do anything else, grumbles. These simple creatures mate out of love; their joy follows the easy path while ours is shaky because we deceive as much as we can, so that each of us screws up. The rogue with her sharp tongue, who gives advice to a thief, with her deceitful lies, overthrows and destroys, which is why I can't find a love that is safe and without rust. Youth is treacherous and mocking and Largesse totters; it is known, as a sure thing, that Valour teeters and Malice becomes sovereign, both mother and daughter. A love that teases is worse than whoring; it is cruel, burning and treacherous, too hot and too cold, which is why he gets great ills and jaundice, who is curried by it. These false Christian people, quivering in senseless crime, turn, in the end, their broom towards Khorasan, for a baptism in the Jordan harms and imperils them. |