5 10 15 20 25 30

52. Balade: «Il m’est advis que vostre beauté voye» Si durement me destraint la pensee Qui m’est venue, Belle, pour vous amer Que nullement en nesune journee Mon cuer ne puit tant soit pou reposer. Car, en veillant, par force de penser, Veoir vous cuide, sans heure desfaillir, Dez yeux du cuer, et quant ung pou dormir Il me convient, ainsy con je veilloye, Pour la tristesse qu’Amours me fait sentir, Il m’est advis que vostre beauté voye. Ne je ne sçay lequel plus fort m’agree, Pour la doulour qui me vient conforter, Ne dont ma pene puit mieulx estre alegee, Ou par dormir ou par tousjours voillier. Car quant je dors, tout ainsy sans seser Com quant je veille, il me fault soustenir Lez maulx d’amours. Pour ce dis, sens mentir, Ce n’est poinct songe, car tousjours ou que soye, Ou veille ou dorme, soit mon mal ou plaisir, Il m’est advis que votre beauté voye. Mais ce les yeulx, par quoy vous fuz donnee L’amour de moy, vous peussent regarder Aussy souvent, ma plaisance celee, Comme font ceulx de mon cuer, ja doubter Ne me faulssist de joye recouvrer. Car tant en eusse com peust resjoir Cent cuers doulens. Mais quant a ce venir, Pour riens ne puis je demourer sans joye, Tant que je dy, pour vray et sans faillir, Il m’est advis que vostre beaulté voye.

52. Ballade: “It seems to me that I see your beauty” So thoroughly does the thought of loving you That has come to me constrain me, my fair lady, That not at all on any day Can my heart rest, however little. For when awake, by force of thought, I think I see you, without missing an hour, With the eyes of my heart; and when I am compelled To sleep a bit, just as when I’m awake, Because of the sadness that Love makes me feel, It seems to me that I see your beauty. Nor do I know which pleases me more, Because of the sadness that comes to comfort me, Nor by which my pain can better be relieved, Whether by sleeping or by remaining awake. For when I sleep, just as much without cease As when I’m awake, I am forced to endure The pains of love. Therefore I say, without lying, This isn’t a dream, for constantly, wherever I am, Whether I wake or sleep, be it pain or pleasure, It seems to me that I see your beauty. But if the eyes by which you were given My love were able to look at you As often, my pleasure being concealed, As do those of my heart, I would never have to doubt recovering joy. For I would have as much as could rejoice A hundred sorrowing hearts. But as for that, I cannot remain without joy for anything As long as I say, in truth and without failing, It seems to me that I see your beauty.

(t-note) (t-note) (see note) (see note) (t-note)