I must sing once again 
when I am most distressed,
when I cannot find mercy;
I simply must sing despite myself,
nor dare I speak to her:
I make my song a message 
that she is so discreet and wise
that I cannot think of any other.

If I could forget 
her beauty and her fair speech 
and her face, sweet in appearance,
I might well be cured,
but I cannot tear my heart away from her;
hope has become a great folly,
but I must persist in it.

Everyone says he is dying of love,
but I don't seek to die of it:
I prefer to suffer my torment,
to live and wait and languish,
for she is most worthy
of my pains and my longing.
He does not love aright who hungers 
for what he might get out of it.

Lady, he who has great fear
often must be troubled,
and think of such folly
from which I cannot restrain myself.
If it is at your pleasure,
my pain will be assuaged,
for only the one desired
can make my heart rejoice.

None can have great joy
if he has not learned from suffering.
He who always does his own will
will hardly ever be a fine lover.
This is why love causes pain:
because it wishes to reward
those who know well how to wait
and to serve at its will.

Lady, with all my might 
I offer myself to you without a struggle,
for without you nothing can give me 
any benefit, nor have any value.