When I think of the lord
of my love
I feel a charming
dizziness.
Blessed be
that rascal
who makes me feel so dizzy.

I love my beloved
because he steals hearts,
with his grace and his charm.
He makes me feel proud
because a lot of girls love him
but they are left with their desire.

Capricious I was born,
and I want him all for myself
Only for myself.
To take away from me his love
is the same as ripping off
the leaves of a flower.

I die of pleasure
when he looks at me,
and I lose my head
when he sighs.
When he throws flowers at me
I feel my little heart
die of love.

For he has sweet eyes
which look at me half-open
very tenderly and very naughtily,
telling me "Oh my darling,
for this little one
I will lose my soul and die."