Se je chant mains que ne suelh
De la simple sans orguelh
Ou j’ay mis toute ma cure
En yver par la froidure,
C’est pour l’amour des faucons
Que j’ay si biaus e si bons
A voler par la riviere;
Que riens nulle n’ay si chiere
Cume d’aler y sovent
Quant l’air est cler, sans grous vent.
Alons y, compains tres dous,
Les oysiaus sont si de sous;
Ho or tot coy,
Ho, je les voy;
Ho, getés, getés!
Ou vous les perdés!
Huo, huo, houp,
Huo, hou, houp,
Huo, hou, houp,
Hareu! Il s’en va.
Hau, ha hau, ha hau, hau,
Hau, ha hau, ha hau!
Il va au change, bon gré Dieu.
Hou, ha hau, ha hau,
Hou, hou, ha hau, ha hau,
Houp, hou, hou, hou!
Levés li!
Hau, ha hau, ha hau, ha ha!
Mort est, or raissons
Nos faucons.
Hau hau, ha ha, hau!
Biaus dous compains, retornons,
Puis qu’a voler ne trovons
[Plus d’oi]siaus en cest pais,
De cues que si avons pris;
Fer[e] a ma dame present.
E se je ne les present
Plus a ma loyal amie,
C’est pour ce que ne puis mie.

If I sing less than I used to
Of the sweet and modest one
In whom I have entrusted my care
In winter, when it is cold,
It’s for love of the very fine, good falcons
That I have
For flying by the river;
There is nothing I love more
Than to go there often,
When the air is clear, and there’s not much wind.
Let’s go, dear friends,
The birds are there, just below;
Ah, be very quiet,
Ah, I see them;
Ah, hold still and release [the falcons]!
Or you’ll miss them!
Huo, huo, houp,
Huo, hou, houp,
Huo, hou, houp,
Hareu! He’s off!
Hau, ha hau, ha hau, hau,
Hau, ha hau, ha hau!
He’s doubling back, God’s good will.
Hou, ha hau, ha hau,
Hou, hou, ha hau, ha hau,
Houp, hou, hou, hou!
Go up, there!
Hau, ha hau, ha hau, ha ha!
It’s dead, so let’s call back
Our falcons.
Hau hau, ha ha, hau!
Fair, sweet friends, let’s go home,
Since we find no more birds
Flying around here,
Other than the ones we’ve caught;
I’ll make a present of them to my lady
And I if I no longer give them
To my loyal sweetheart,
It’s because I can no longer do so.

English: Yolanda Plumley © 2015