by François Villon (1431 - 1463)
Translation © by Grant Hicks

Faulse beauté, qui tant me couste cher
Language: French (Français) 
Our translations:  ENG ENG
Faulse beauté, qui tant me couste cher,
Rude en effect, hypocrite doulceur,
Amour dure, plus que fer, à mascher;
Nommer que puis de ma deffaçon seur.
Charme felon, la mort d'ung povre cueur,
Orgueil mussé, qui gens met au mourir,
Yeulx sans pitié! ne veult Droict de Rigueur
Sans empirer, ung povre secourir?

Mieulx m'eust valu avoir esté crier
Ailleurs secours, c'eust esté mon bonheur:
Rien ne m'eust sceu de ce fait arracher;
Trotter m'en fault en fuyte à deshonneur.
Haro, haro, le grand et le mineur!
Et qu'est cecy? mourray sans coup ferir,
Ou pitié peult, selon ceste teneur,
Sans empirer, ung povre secourir.

Ung temps viendra, qui fera desseicher,
Jaulnir, flestrir, vostre espanie fleur:
J'en risse lors, se tant peusse marcher,
Mais las! nenny: ce seroit donc foleur,
Vieil je seray; vous, laide et sans couleur.
Or, beuvez, fort, tant que ru peult courir.
Ne donnez pas à tous ceste douleur
Sans empirer, ung povre secourir.

Envoi
Prince amoureux, des amans le greigneur,
Vostre mal gré ne vouldroye encourir;
Mais tout franc cueur doit, par Nostre Seigneur,
Sans empirer, ung povre secourir.

Available sung texts: (what is this?)

•   C. Debussy 

About the headline (FAQ)

Note for stanza 1, line 4: "deffaçon" is a word in Old French, similar to the modern "qualités défectueuses" or défectuosité

Modernized spelling provided by Laura Prichard: 

Fausse beauté, qui tant me coûte cher,	
Rude en effet, hypocrite douceur,
Amour dure plus que fer à mâcher,	
Nommer te puis, de ma défaçon sur.	
Charme félon, la mort d'un pauvre cœur,	
Orgueil mussé qui gens met au mourir,	
Yeux sans pitié, ne veux Droit de Rigueur,
Sans empirer, un pauvre secourir?

Mieux m'eût valu avoir été crier
Ailleurs secours: c'eût été mon bonheur;
Rien ne m'eût su de ce fait arracher.
Trotter m'en faut en fuite à déshonneur.
Haro, haro, le grand et le mineur!
Et qu’est-ce? Mourrai sans coup férir?
Ou pitié peut, selon cette teneur,	
Sans empirer, un pauvre secourir?	

Un temps viendra qui fera dessécher,	
Jaunir, flétrir, votre épanie fleur;	
J'en risse lors, se tant peusse marcher,
Mais las! nenny; Ce serait donc foleur,
Vieil je serai; vous, laide, et sans couleur;	
Or buvez fort, tant que ru peut courir;	
Ne donnez pas à tous cette douleur,	
Sans empirer, un pauvre secourir.	

Prince amoureux, des amants le greigneur,	
Votre mal gré ne voudrais encourir,	
Mais tout franc cœur doit, par Notre Seigneur,
Sans empirer, un pauvre secourir.


Text Authorship:

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

Another version of this text exists in the database.

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (Laura Stanfield Prichard) , copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ENG English (Grant Hicks) , copyright © 2026, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 29
Word count: 184

False beauty, that costs me so dear
Language: English  after the French (Français) 
False beauty, that costs me so dear,
Harsh in fact, though affecting sweetness,
Love that is harder than iron to chew;
Whom I can name, certain of my undoing.
Cruel charm that's death to a poor heart,
Concealed pride that makes people die,
Pitiless eyes! Shouldn't strict justice,
Without reproach, give aid to a poor man?

It would have been better for me to seek
Help elsewhere, that would have been my good fortune:
Nothing could have torn me away from that;
Now I must flee in haste, to my shame.
Help me, help me, both great and small!
And what now? I will die without striking a blow,
Or pity may, heeding what I've said,
Without reproach, give aid to a poor man.

A time will come that will wither,
Yellow, and wilt your flourishing blossom:
I'd laugh about it then, if I could walk so far,
But alas, no: for that would be folly,
I will be old; you, ugly and pallid.
So drink deep, as long as the stream flows.
Spare everyone that suffering 
Without reproach, give aid to a poor man.

Envoi:
Loving prince, the greatest of lovers, 
I would not wish to face your displeasure;
But every noble heart should, by Our Lord, 
Without reproach, give aid to a poor man.

About the headline (FAQ)

Translations of titles:
"Ballade à s'amie" = "Ballade to His Sweetheart"
"Ballade à s'amye" = "Ballade to His Sweetheart"
"Ballade de Villon a s'amye" = "Villon's Ballade to His Sweetheart"

Note for stanza 1, line 4: Villon does, in fact, name her: the first letters of lines 1-6 of stanza 2 spell out the name "Marthe," as stanza 1 spells out "Francoys," the poet himself.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2026 by Grant Hicks, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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This text was added to the website: 2026-07-09
Line count: 29
Word count: 216