Farai chansoneta nueva,
Ans que vent ni gel ni plueva:
Ma dona m'assaya e-m prueva,
Quossi de qual guiza l'am;
E ja per plag que m'en mueva
No-m solvera de son liam.


I shall make a new song
Before the wind blows and it freezes and rains.
My lady tries me, putting me to the test
To find out how I love her.
Well, no matter what quarrel she mover for that reason, She shall not loose me from her bond.



Qu'ans mi rent a lieys e-m liure,
Qu'en sa carta-m pot escriure.
E no m'en tenguatz per yure,
S'ieu ma bona dompna am!
Quar senes lieys non puesc viure,
Tant ai pres de s'amor gran fam.

Instead, I become her man, deliver myself up to her,
and she can write my name down in her charter.
Now don't go thinking I must be drunk
If I love my virtuous lady, for without her
I have no life, I have caught such hunger
for her love.




Que plus es blanca qu'evori,
Per qu'ieu autra non azori:
Si-m breu no-n ai aiutori,
Cum ma bona dompna m'am,
Morrai, pel cap sanh Gregori,
Si no-m bayza en cambr'o sotz ram.

For you are whiter than ivory,
I worship no other woman.
If I do not get help soon
And my lady does not give me love,
By Saint Gregory's holy head I'll die
If she doesn't kiss me in a chamber or under a tree.



Qual pro-y auretz, dompna conja,
Si vostr'amors mi deslonja
Par que-us vulhatz metre monja!
E sapchatz, quar tan vos am,
Tem que la dolors me ponja,
Si no-m faitz dreg dels tortz q'ie-us clam.


What shall it profit you, my comely lady,
If your love keeps me far away?
I swear, you want to become a nun.
And you better know, I love you so much
I'm afraid the pain will prick me to death,
If you don't do right by me for the wrongs I cry against you.



Qual pro i auretz s'ieu m'enclostre
E no-m retenetz per vostre
Totz lo joys del mon es nostre,
Dompna, s'amduy nos amam.
Lay al mieu amic Daurostre,
Dic e man que chan e (no) bram.

What shall t profit you if I become a monk shut in
and you do not keep me for your man?
All the joy of the world belongs to us,
Lady, if we both love each other.
Now to my friend down there, Daurostre,
I say, I command: sing this nicely, do not bray.




Per aquesta fri e tremble,
Quar de tan bon' amor l'am;
Qu'anc no cug qu'en nasques semble
En semblan del gran linh n'Adam.

For this one I shiver and tremble,
I love her with such good love;
I do not think the like of her was ever born
In the long line of Lord Adam.