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43. Balade: «Fors que d’amours et de ma belle dame»







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43. Balade: «Fors que d’amours et de ma belle dame»

Loyal amour, ardant et desireuse,
Ferme, sans fin, entierement donnee,
Et ma dame, plaisant et gracieuse,
Plaine d’amour, de tout bien renommee,
N’ont en mon cuer laissié nulle pensee
Fors que celle qui d’eulz deux me vient,
Et en celle tant penser me convient
Que de riens plus ne me souvient, par m’ame,
Fors que d’amours et de ma belle dame.

Je sens amour, puissant et oultrageuse,
De trop amer fort et desmesuree,
Et je congnois ma dame dangereuse,
Froide d’amer, sachant, bien avisee,
Pour sa bonté de plusieurs desiree.
Tousdiz meilleur et plus belle devient,
Et penser cilz si pres de moy se tient
Que de riens plus ne me souvient, par m’ame,
Fors que d’amours et de ma belle dame.

Mais trop seroit amour plus savoureuse,
Mieulx avenant et plus aise portee,
Se ma dame, jeune, gente, joieuse,
Belle sans per, bonne, bien euree,
Vouloit savoir comment elle est amee
En tous les poins que loyal cuer maintient,
Car loyaulté de si pres m’apartient
Que de riens plus ne me souvient, par m’ame,
Fors que d’amours et de ma belle dame.
 
43. Ballade: “Anything but love and my beautiful lady”

Loyal love, burning and desirous,
Constant, endless, given entirely,
And my lady, charming and gracious,
Full of love, renowned for every virtue,
Have not left in my heart a single thought
Except for that which comes to me from those two,
And on this I am forced to think so much
That by my soul, no longer do I recall
Anything but love and my beautiful lady.

I feel love, powerful and excessive,
Strong and uncontrolled in loving greatly,
And I know my lady to be disdainful,
Cool to love, wise and very prudent,
Desired by very many for her goodness.
She constantly gets better and more beautiful,
And this thought adheres to me so closely
That by my soul, no longer do I recall
Anything but love and my beautiful lady.

But love would be much more delightful,
More pleasant and more easily borne,
If my lady, young, gracious, joyful,
Beautiful without equal, good and fortunate,
Wished to know how much she is loved
In all the ways that a loyal heart maintains,
For loyalty is so much a part of me
That by my soul, no longer do I recall
Anything but love and my beautiful lady.
 









(see note)