Amour me tue, et si je ne veus dire
Le plaisant mal que ce m'est de mourir:
Tant j'ay grand peur, qu'on veuille secourir
Le mal, par qui doucement je soupire.
Il est bien vray, que ma langueur desire
Qu'avec le tans je me puisse guerir:
Mais je ne veus ma dame requerir
Pour ma santé: tant me plait mon martire.
Tay toy langueur: je sen venir le jour,
Que ma maistresse, après si loing sejour,
Voyant le soing qui ronge ma pensée,
Tout' une nuict, folatrement m'aiant
Entre ses bras, prodigu', ira paiant
Les interés de ma pein' avancée.
F. Regnard sets stanza 1
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This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 14
Word count: 102
Love is slaying me, and I do not want to speak
the pleasant pain it gives me to die,
so much I fear that someone will want to cure
the pain behind my sweet sighs.
It is true that my languishment desires
that I may be cured with time,
but I do not want to need my lady
for my health: my martyrdom is too pleasurable.
Be still, languishment: I feel the day coming
when my mistress, after such a long absence,
seeing the care that gnaws at my thoughts,
for a whole night will hold me
in her arms, prodigally, and so will pay
the interest on my great pain.
