| |
Text When Y se
blosmes springe
Ant here foules song,
A suete loue-longynge
Myn herte thourhout stong, |
Translation When I see
flowers come into bloom
And hear birdsong,
A sweet desire for love
Has pierced right through my heart, |
| 5 |
Al for a loue newe
That is so suete ant trewe,
That gladieth al my song;
Ich wot al myd iwisse
My ioie ant eke my blisse |
All for a new love
That is so sweet and true
It fills all my song with joy;
I know for certain
That my joy and my bliss too |
| 10 |
On him is al ylong. When Y mi selue stonde
Ant with myn eghen seo
Thurled fot ant honde
With grete nayles threo--- |
Depend entirely on him.
When I myself stand
And see [him] with my own eyes
Pierced through hands and feet
With three large nails---
|
| 15 |
Blody wes ys heued,
On him nes nout bileued
That wes of peynes freo---
Wel, wel ohte myn herte
For his loue to smerte |
His head was bloodstained,
No part of him was left
That was free of sufferings---
Surely, surely my heart ought
To feel pain for his love |
| 20 |
Ant sike ant sory beo.
Iesu, milde ant
softe,
Yef me streynthe ant myht
Longen sore ant ofte
To louye the aryht,
|
And be sad and sorrowful. Jesus, mild and gentle,
Give me the strength and power
To long deeply and often
To love you properly, |
| 25 |
Pine to tholie ant dreghe
For the, [suete]
Marie;
Thou art so fre ant bryht,
Mayden ant moder mylde,
For loue of thine childe, |
To suffer and endure pain
For you, sweet Mary;
You are so generous and bright,
Virgin and gentle mother,
For love of your child, |
| 30 |
Ernde vs heuen-lyht. Alas, that Y ne [con]
Turne to him my thoht,
Ant cheosen him to lemmon,
So duere he vs hath yboht |
Plead for the light of heaven for us.
Alas, that I cannot
Turn my thought to him,
And choose him as a lover,
He has bought us so dearly
|
| 35 |
With woundes deope ant stronge,
With peynes sore ant longe---
Of loue ne conne we noht.
His blod that fel to grounde
Of hise suete wounde |
With deep and cruel wounds,
With severe and extended sufferings---
We understand nothing about love.
His blood, which fell to the ground
From his sweet wounds |
| 40 |
Of peyne vs hath [ybroht]. Iesu, milde ant
suete,
Y synge the mi song;
Ofte Y the grete
Ant preye the among. |
Has brought us out of punishment.
Jesus, mild and sweet,
I sing you my song;
Often I salute you
And pray to you in between.
|
| 45 |
Let me sunnes lete,
Ant in this lyue bete
That Ich haue do wrong;
At oure lyues ende,
When [we] shule
wende, |
Let me abandon sins
And atone in this life
For what I have done wrong;
At the end of our life,
When we must depart, |
| 50 |
Iesu, vs vnde[r]fong! AMEN.
|
Jesus, receive us! AMEN. |
