Sweet lady, I have never told you
my great pain, but rather I have always concealed it.
My eyes have killed me, for they have put me
into a state of perplexity which brings a pain that can never end;
I forgive them, for it is a great honour to me
that I have fallen in love with the best in the world.

If you could but see her blonde hair
which looks like gold,
and her white neck
underneath her radiant head!
That is my lady, my joy
and my rich treasure;
certainly, without her
I would not wish to be as brave as Hector.

No man can guard himself
against loving such a beautiful lady;
since Love makes me think of it,
Love should teach me well
how I may attain it,
since I have no other aim.
It would be overweeningly proud
of me if I asked her
to grant me her love,
or even thought of doing so.

But instead I shall endure my suffering,
for she will never know my thought
unless she looks compassionately
upon the ills which she makes me bear;
for I greatly fear that her exalted wish
may go against me;
I might say something
which she would hold against me.

Betake yourself, descort,
to where God has assembled valour,
worth and virtue, without saying any more
save that, for the love of God,
one may well discern through you
that I sing for none except her,
by whom God grant I be loved.