I. I sing, as does the swan when death is nigh, for I know that thereby I shall make a better end and die less grievously. Love has held me ensnared and many torments have I endured; but because of the hurt that now comes upon me I know that I was never a true lover.
II. What resolve, then, shall I take if I thus die of love? For I expect no joy from that place whither my sighs fly; but my desire turns not from her although I am in despair. Pensive and troubled does she keep me, she on whom above all my thoughts dwell.
III. I know not her equal throughout the world. O God, why do I love her so? For never shall I dare to reveal my desire to her. Graciously does she receive me and bear me company, but I am the more irresolute in that, if I sought mercy of her, I fear she would forthwith be on her guard against me.
IV. Entreaty, where it is not fitting, becomes tiresome. I will plead with her, then, without speaking. And how? With a look, and perchance she may understand if so it please her. For thus are joy and pleasure doubled when one heart is in accord with another and when a man does good without self-seeking.
V. Candour, when allied with a sincere heart, enhances love; high birth casts it down for the nobles are deceitful and so many high-born rogues are there that the world is thereby debased. And a lady who upholds worth does not love on account of high rank if she sees naught else there.
VI. Away, O song, not because I send aught to her, but you can reveal my disquietude to her and do me no ill thereby. Tell her that my heart is given and pledged to her; hers I am and hers shall I ever be, and like am I to die because of my good faith.
VII. Fair lady, wherever you may be, joy be with you and happiness be yours; I do not dare to seek your mercy but at least I may think of so doing.
