If I embrace a thousand pinks or a thousand lilies,
Twisting them all around my arms
Tighter than a vine which in amorous style
Entwines its beloved branch in a thousand curves;

If care no longer jaundices my face,
If pleasure chooses to stay with me,
If I prefer the shadows to the day,
My divine dream, this good comes from your favour.

Following your flight I could fly to the heavens;
But her image which fools my eyes
Always deceives my exhausted joy;

And then you flee from me in the midst of my happiness,
Like a flash of lightning which ends in nothing,
Or like a cloud which disappears in the breeze.