Contre mon gré l'atrait de tes beaus yeus
Donte mon cœur, mais quand je te veus dire
Quell'est ma mort, tu ne t'en fais que rire,
Et de mon mal tu as le cœur joïeus.
Puis qu'en t'aimant je ne puis avoir mieus,
Soufre du moins que pour toi je soupire:
Assés et trop ton bel oeil me martire,
Sans te moquer de mon mal soucieus.
Moquer mon mal, rire de ma douleur,
Par un dedain redoubler mon malheur,
Haïr qui t'aime, et vivre de ses pleintes,
Rompre ta foi, manquer de ton devoir,
Cela, cruelle, et n'est-ce pas avoir
Tes mains de sang, et d'homicide teintes?
Available sung texts: (what is this?)
• G. Boni View text with all available footnotes
Text Authorship:
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
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This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 14
Word count: 109
Against my wish, the attraction of your lovely eyes
Tames my heart, but when I want to say to you
That it is my death too, you do nothing but laugh
And in my pain your heart rejoices.
As in loving you I can have no better
At least let me yearn for you
Enough and more suffering your lovely eye brings me
Without you laughing at the pain of my yearning.
Mocking my pain, laughing at my sadness,
Doubling my misfortune by your disdain,
Hating him who loves you, and living for his groans
Breaking your word, failing to do what you should --
All this, cruel one, isn't it like having
Blood on your hands, stained by murder?
