Pos vezem de novel florir
Pratz, e vergiers reverdezir,
Rius e fontanas esclarzir,
Auras e vens,
Ben deu chascus lo joi jauzir
Don es jauzens.


Now when we see the meadows once again
In flower and the orchards turning green,
Streams and fountains running clear,
The breezes and the winds,
It's right that each man celebrate the joy
That makes him rejoice.



D'amor non dei dire mas be.
Quar no-n ai ni petit ni re?
Quar ben leu plus no m'en cove!
Pero leumens
Dona gran joi qui be-n mante
Los aizimens.

Now I must not say anything but good of Love.
Why do I get not one bit of it?
Maybe I wasn't meant for more.
And yet how freely
It gives great joy to any man who upholds
Its rules.




A totz jorns m'es pres enaisi
C'anc d'aquo c'amei no-m jauzi;
Ni o farai, ni anc non ho fi;
C'az essiens
Fauc maintas ves que-l cor me di:
Tot es niens.

This is the way it has always been with me:
I never had the joy of what I loved,
And I never will, as I never did.
For I am aware,
I do many things and my heart says,
"It is all nothing."



Per tal n'ai meins de bon saber
Quar vueill so que non puesc aver;
E si-l reprovers me ditz ver,
A bon coratge bon poder,
Qui-s ben sufrens.


And so I know less than anyone what pleasure is,
because I want what I cannot have.
And yet, one wise saying tells me
The certain truth:
"When the heart is good, it s power is good,
if a man knows patience."



Ja no sera nuils hom ben fis
Contr'amor, si non l'es aclis,
Et als estranhs et als vezis
Non es consens,
Et a totz sels d'aicels aizis

Surely no one can ever be Love's perfect man
unless he gives it homage in humility
And is obliging to strangers
And acquaintances,
And to all people of that realm




Obediensa deu portar
A motas gens qui vol amar,
E cove li que sapcha far
Faitz avinens
E que-s gart en cort de parlar

A man who wants to be a lover
Must meet many people with obedience,
And must know how to do
The things that fit in court,
And must keep, in court, from speaking
Like a vulgar man.



Del vers vos dic que mais ne vau
Qui be l'enten, e n'a plus lau:
Que-ls motz son faitz tug per egau
E-l sonetz, ieu meteus m'en lau,
Bos e valens.


Concerning this vers I tell you a man is
all the more noble as he understands it,
and he gets more praise; and all the strophes
are built exactly on the same meter,
and the melody, which I myself am happy about,
Is fine and good.



Mon Esteve, mas ieu no-i vau,
Sia-l prezens
Mos vers, e vueill que d'aquest lau
Sia guirens

Let my vers, since I myself do not,
Appear before her,
Mon Esteve, and let it be the witness
For my praise.