Par m’ame, je ne le say
Ne saray,
Lonteins de vous que j’aour,
Pour ce qu’adés, sans delay,
A l’essay
Sui d’avoir toute dolour;
Car long de vous tout m’anoie
Et desvoie
Mon cuer et tient en irour.
Dont pour vostre amour morroie,
Se j’estoie
Longuement en telle ardour.

Helas! et comment aroie
Bien ne joie,
Ne dont me venroit baudour,
Quant faire ne puis que j’oie
Ne que voie,
Dame, vo fine douçour?

Nompourquant, tant com vivray,
Vous seray
Loiaus, sans penser folour,
Et vostre gentil corps gay
Serviray
Humblement et a s’onnour;
Si que durer ne porroie
Se n’avoie
Confort de vostre valour
Contre desir qui guerroie
Et maistroie
Mon cuer et tient en langour.

Helas! et comment aroie
Bien ne joie,
Ne dont me venroit baudour,
Quant faire ne puis que j’oie
Ne que voie,
Dame, vo fine douçour?

Las! il tient en tel esmay
Mon cuer vray
Que je ne say le piour
Eslire des maus que tray;
Tant en ay
Et tant desir le retour
Vers vous, dame simple et quoie.
Or n’est voie
Que puisse trouver ne tour,
Et dou pis qu’Amours m’envoie,
C’est que soie
Loing de vo faitis atour.

Helas! et comment aroie
Bien ne joie,
Ne dont me venroit baudour,
Quant faire ne puis que j’oie
Ne que voie,
Dame, vo fine douçour?

Guillaume de Machaut (c1300-1377)

Upon my soul, I do not know,
Nor will I come to know this,
Far distant from you whom I adore,
Because right now, and no delay,
I am put to the test
Of suffering pain in all its forms;
For, long from you, everything bothers
And shakes up
My heart and keeps it miserable.
And so I will die from loving you
Were I to remain
For very long in such frenzy.

Alas! And how will I obtain
Any good or joy,
Or what might bring me happiness,
When I cannot listen to
Or gaze upon,
Your delicate sweetness, Lady?

Nevertheless, as long as I live,
I will remain faithful
To you, intending no foolishness,
And your noble and pleasant person
I will serve
Humbly and to its honour;
And so I cannot endure
If I do not obtain
Comfort from your worthiness,
Opposing the desire that wages war against
And would be the master
Of my heart, which it keeps miserable.

Alas! And how will I obtain
Any good or joy,
Or what might bring me happiness,
When I cannot listen to
Or gaze upon,
Your delicate sweetness, Lady?

Alas! He keeps my true heart
In such distress
That I know not which to choose
As the worst of the ills I suffer;
I have so many of them,
And I am so eager for my return
To you, lady modest and demure.
At this moment there is no path
That I can find, no way at all,
And among the worst things Love might send
My way, it’s that I should be
Far distant from your lovely presence.

Alas! And how will I obtain
Any good or joy,
Or what might bring me happiness,
When I cannot listen to
Or gaze upon,
Your delicate sweetness, Lady?

English: R Barton Palmer © 2018