Blancheflour
   "Over wood and field and meadow
The evening strews flowers;
One is called Heloise,
But it withers all alone in a bouquet.
A cloister garden
Holds in a stern
Prison the glory of this little flower;
It cannot fly,
Must succumb,
Says to life: good night!"
 
Aleard
   "Dear God, the late evening glow sparkles,
The nightingales wage their sweet battles,
Breezes cool, evening darkness falls,
Ah, that was once the [accustomed] time!
Silence, temptation!
The bells of the cloister
Are solemnly sounding in warning.
Tongues speaking of love
Have fallen silent,
All that still sounds are funereal songs."
 
Blancheflour
Do you wish to go out, Heloise?
Do you yearn for the blossoming throng?
 
Aleard
Over field and meadow do you wish
To wander again, Abelard?
 
Both
Nay, to the world's
Weight of affliction
We bid adieu henceforth!
They who in their spirits
Lament for love
Are not hurt by solitude.
 
Blancheflour
Across distant lakes comes a sound;
Comes it from you, my Abelard?
 
Aleard
Across distant forests comes a singing;
Heloise, is it you sounding so clearly?
 
Both
Nightingales'
Songs resound,
Are already bidding spring adieu!
Cloister cell,
Close the threshold;
Solitude does not hurt me.