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Per savi·l tenc ses doptanssa
Cel qui de mon chant devina
So que chascus motz declina,
Si cum la razos despleia,
Qu'ieu mezeis sui en erranssa
D'esclarzir paraul' escura.

Trobador, ab sen d'enfanssa,
Movon als pros atahina,
E tornon en disciplina
So que veritatz autreia,
E fant los motz, per esmanssa,
Entrebeschatz de fraichura.

E meton en un' eganssa
Falss' Amor encontra fina,
Qu'ieu dic que d'Amar s'aizina
Ab si mezesme guerreia!
C'apres la borsa voianssa
Fai fols captenenssa dura.

Per so·n port ir' e pesanssa
C'aug dir a la gen frairina
C'Amors engan' e trahina
Cellui cui Amars reneia!
Menton, que lor benananssa
Es Jois, Sofrirs e Mesura.

Aitals pareills fai mostranssa,
S'en doas partz non camina,
Pois bon'Amors n'es vezina,
Ab dos desirs d'un' enveia
Ab segurana fianssa
Blanca cara ver' e pura.

C'Amors a signifianssa
De maracd' o de sardina,
Es de Joi cim' e racina,
C'ab veritat seignoreia,
E sa poestatz sobranssa
Sobre mouta creatura.

Segon dich, faich e semblanssa,
Es de veraia corina
Car se promet e·s plevina,
Ab sol que·l dos no sordeia,
E qui vas lieis no s'enanssa
Porta nom de follatura.

Sermonars ni predicanssa
Non val un ou de gallina
Vas cellui de qu'es frairina
Follia de cor correia!
Qu·ieu sai s'Amars es amanssa,
Qu'a mains es fals' e tafura.

Fols pos tot cant au romanssa!
Non sec razo, mas bozina,
Car s'Amors viu de rapina,
Autrei c'Amors s'amoreia
E que Costans es Costanssa
E fals usatges dreitura.

La defenida balanssa
D'aquest vers e revolina
Sobr' un' avol gen canina
Cui malvatz astres ombreia,
C'ab folla cuida bobanssa
Ses faich de bon aventura.

La cuida per qu'el bobanssa
Li sia malaventura.

I consider wise, no doubt,
he who divines, in my song,
what each word indicates
as the intent unfolds,
for I myself am prone to mistakes
when explaining the obscure words.

Troubadours, with childish minds,
stir trouble for the worthy
and treat sternly
what truth grants
and, for no reasons at all, write words
inlaid with fragmentation

and put in the same basket
false together with pure love.
And I say that he who prepares for lovemaking
goes to war with himself
for, after emptying his purse,
the fool puts up a sad countenance.

For this I bear anger and grief:
when I hear disloyal people
say that Love deceives and betrays
him who turns lovemaking down.
They lie, because their blessing
is Joy, Patience and Moderation.

Some couple makes a show,
–if they don't go two different ways,
since they have good Love as a neighbour–
of two desires in a single will,
with assured trust,
white, precious, true and pure.

For Love has its meaning,
of emerald or of sardine:
it is the crown and root of Joy,
it rules by truth
and its power is sovereign
over many a creature.

According to the sayings, facts and appearance,
it truly comes from the heart,
for it promises and pledges,
as long as [one] does not debase its gifts;
and he who does not run to it,
deserves to be accused of folly.

Sermons and preaching
are not worth a chicken egg
to one who has a despicable
folly strapped to his heart.
I know whether lovemaking is loving,
for it is false and treacherous to many.

The fool reports everything he hears:
he does not follow reason, but blabbers
for, if Love lives of plunder,
then I concede that Love becomes infatuated,
and that Constans is Constancy
and false habits [are] right.

Here swings the end
of this piece, and is unleashed
upon dastardly, doglike people
whom an evil star adumbrates,
for they take pride in foolish thoughts
without deeds of good fortune.

May the thoughts they take pride in
be the cause of their misfortune.