While you play with
wreaths of flowers,
The God of Love binds me in such
The pain of grief and misery binds me,
If I do not have the one that I love above all.
||Her love makes me burn so much
That I do not know what I can do about it;
I will be forced to leave this world behind me
If I cannot pursue her love.
She is such a beautiful, refined, and excellent lady,
As if she were an emperor's daughter,
With a charming manner and admirable chastity,
She is the flower in every king's court.
When I see her I am in such glory
As is the moon among the stars of heaven;
May God grant her to me by his mercy,
To kiss and do the other things which follow.
I wrote these verses
in my notebook;
My lodgings are in the middle of the city of Paris.
I cannot say any more, I feel such joy;
If I die for her love, it is a pity.