Enough sleeping, my pretty one!
Your mare Isabelle
is neighing under your balcony.
Look at your lively whippers-in
and on their green sleeves
the black feet of the falcons.

Look at the squires and pages,
in chivalrous attire
without tunics or doublets,
with padded headgear 
and crossbows in their fists,
as they drag the palfreys along.

Look at the superb greyhounds
leaping in the grasses,
and the stocky dogs barking.
It's hunting day, happy hunting!
Let's go, my sweet lover,
with our feet in  the stirrups!

 ... 

Oh, on your leaning forehead
I like to see your white hand
comb your dark hair -
beautiful hair which is tied back
in the morning and which together
we let down every night!

Let's go, intrepid mistress,
your speedy mare
is eagerly tapping the ground, 
and your fool is swinging
his joyful parasol 
like a soldier waving his lance!

Now put your white scarf
on your curving shoulders
over your golden bodice,
and I will carry you,
my charmer, in your mantle,
like a sleeping child!