Canso: Farai chansoneta nueva, Guillem Comte de Peitau

A new song I will arrange

before the winds bring hail and rain;

my love assails me: she maintains

it's just a test of my intents;

she won't release me from her chains,

and I won't be stayed by arguments.

Rather, I surrender to her claim,

and in her charter goes my name;

if I love her just the same

don't think I'm drunk;

starving for her love's to blame--

without her my life's sunk.

For she's as white as ivory, pure,

I could not love another more;

if soon I don't receive the succor

of her love . . . By Saint Gregory's head!

Why, if she won't kiss me, in or outdoors,

by God I'm dead!

Where's the profit, my "wise one,"

if your love will make me run?

It seems you want to be a nun!

Here's truth (for I've fed in your pasture):

if you don't right the wrongs you've done,

sorrow will spur me on faster!

And where's the profit if I take orders

and you do not keep me for yours?

The world's joys would lie in our borders,

Lady, if we keep our love ours!

And this to my good friend, Daurostre:

Let his singing be sweet, not his usual roars!

For her I tremble and mourn,

her love I could never replace;

her like has never been born

in the history of Adam's whole race.