I. For solace and laughter am I minded to compose a song, otherwise I would not sing this year on account of my grief, for which I find comfort in song; because love slays me with anxiety since it has found me truer than any other lover.
II. At least things go well with me in so far as it cannot slay me with a more honourable grief or with so sweet a martyrdom. For I dedicate myself to such a lady who is the most beautiful I know; sweet to me is the misfortune I bear but great sin is thereby hers.
III. I send naught to her by another concerning that which I most desire, nor do I myself dare to relate aught of it to her, so much do I court her favour. On the contrary, when I am in her presence and it often befalls that I ask, ‘Lady, what shall I do?’, she makes no response other than to mock me.
IV. Alas! how do I, who am her liege man and her servant, die desiring that I might conceal myself from her. Often do I grow wrathful and ill-humouredly say that I will depart from her; and thereupon do I find my heart where it was last year.
V. My eyes are ever on her whichever way I turn, so that wherever she goes I see and behold her just in the same way as the sunflower which, it is said, always turns towards the sun.
VI. If I have at any time been joyful, know that it is not because of deceit that I often sigh. Lady, for whom I sing, I will tell you one thing: if this your servant is brought low, shame and hurt will be yours.
VII. Concerning love, I tell you that I have good hope and let no man henceforward ask me about it.
VIII. Go straightway, O song, to my lady and tell her, if it so please her, to learn you and sing.
