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54. Balade: «Un seul confort de ma tresbelle dame» Amours, je voy des autres amoureux Que vous tenez en vostre gouvernement, Que maintes foiz vous les faites joyeux Et leur donnez de voz biens largement. Ceulx vous doivent servir songneusement De cuer, de corps, sanz rien y espargnier. Maiz moi qui suiz et seray sanz fausser Vo serviteur a tousjours maiz, par m’ame, Onques nul jour ne me voultes donner Un seul confort de ma tresbelle dame. Amours, Amours, se je suiz doulereux, Triste, pensiz, sanz nul esbatement, Nulz m’en doit blasmer, se m’aist Dieux. Car il y a trois ans entierement Que j’entrepris de servir loyaument Celle du monde que on doit plus prisier. Sa grant beauté fist en mon cuer entrer Feu mortel qui art, bruit et enflame, Ne onques mais si n’en peuz recouvrer Un seul confort de ma tresbelle dame. Amours, Amours, je suis sy envieux, Puis que fere ne se puet autrement, De nulle rien pour garir mes douleurs, Fors que sanz plus de la mort seulement. Se je me plains de voz fais trop souvent, Helas! Amours, vueilliez moy pardonner. Ce que j’en dy, c’est par force d’amer. Onques mais, las! je ne me plains, par m’ame. Ce sont mes maulx qui me font demander Un seul confort de ma tresbelle dame

54. Ballade: “A single comfort from my most beautiful lady” Love, I see, with regard to other lovers That you have in your governance, That many times you make them joyous And give them generously of your rewards. These ought to serve you attentively In heart, in body, without ever sparing. But to me, who am and will be, without deceit, Your servant forever more, by my soul, Never on any day have you wanted to give me A single comfort from my most beautiful lady. Love, Love, if I am sorrowful, Sad, pensive, without any mirth, No one ought to blame me, so help me God, For it has been three whole years now Since I undertook to serve loyally Her whom one must most esteem in the world. Her great beauty made enter into my heart A mortal fire which burns, roars, and inflames. Yet never am I able to obtain thereby A single comfort from my most beautiful lady. Love, Love, I am so envious Because it cannot turn out otherwise In any way in order to heal my sorrows, Except for death alone and nothing else. If I complain about your nature too often, Alas, Love, please pardon me. What I say is under the force of loving. Never more, alas, do I complain, by my soul. These are my pains that make me request A single comfort from my most beautiful lady.

(t-note) (see note)