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¶ Quant fu en ma juvente E en ma volenté, Molt mis ma entente Certe a jolifté. Molt fu pesaunt e lent A chescune bounté, Ne pensoi de la rente Que me serroit demaundé. Tut fut mon cuer mis Certe a folour; Molt fu en verglis — Alas, a icel jour! Que trop en ay pris De terrien honour, Jour e nuit ma pensé mis En trop fol amour. Certes, molt desirroi Aver lel amisté, Mes nule ne trovoi Quant je le oy prové; Quant je bien regardoi, Ne vi qe vanité. Sovent dis “weylowoi” De quoi ai je pensé. Un jour m’en aloi deduyre, Mon solas querant; Avynt par aventure Qe je oy un chaunt. A ce mis ma cure, Si estois escotaunt — Certes, bone e pure La dite fut del chaunt! La dite du chaunt Vous dirroi, come je say; Touz ceus qe vont pensant Pur quere amour verray, Attendent a mon chaunt! Je lur enseigneray De un ami, fyn amaunt, Bon, bel, e verray. “Flur de tote bounté, E de pureté auxi, Fluret de tote leauté E de clareté, vous dy, Chescun manere de bounté Puet um trover en ly. Flur de tote pieté, Molt est tresdouz amy. “Tote manere de douçour Est en cel lel amaunt; Yl fiet de fyn amour Plus qe nul vivaunt. Roy e empereour A ly sunt obeissaunt. Molt ad il grant honour Qe ad un tiel amant. “Jesus est apelé, Ycel y qe vous dy. Yl nous ad bien mostré Que il est lel amy, Pusqe nous ad fourmé Trestous aprés ly. Cher nous ad achaté; Pur nous la mort soffry. “Pusqe nomé vous ay Qe est cel lel amaunt, Ne fetez nul delay — Alez a ly coraunt! Metez en asay Si ce seit veir qe vous chaunt.      Nul amour, par foi, Vers celi ne valt un gaunt. “Pucele est la mere De celi dount je chaunt. Sur tote rien est lumere Aprés son cher enfaunt. Soun fitz est son pere, Espous, e lel amaunt. Bonet seit tiele mere E soun douz enfaunt! “Mes ore vous oyez, Qe desirrez amour, Si vous aver volez De touz amours la flour, Molt covent qe seiez Estable par tendrour, E vostre cuer recreiez De trop terrien honour. “Si vous amer volez Jesus enterement, Chescun amour ohtes Qe a folie apent, Quar quanqe vous pensez, Il siet veroiement Molt covyent qe eyez Net cuer e talent. “La playe regardez Que soffry vostre Creatour, E le sang veiez Que issist pur vostre amour. De prier ne cessez Par nuyt ne par jour; Orez e plorez Desque tu senz douçour. “Si goute aver poez De ce sang precious Qe li duz Jesu espaundez Pur vous, Vostre cuer bien lavez De verrois amours. A vostre amy priez: En ly troverez socours. “Quant bien avez lavé Vostre cuer de ce sang, Plus pros de li alez La croyz seiez beysaunt; En la plaie entrez, Que est si long e graunt, Yleqe vous tenez, Ne issez pur nul vivaunt. “Le cuer de vostre amy Seisez e ferm tenez; Ne dotez nul enymy Taunt come la demorez. Si tu es assayly, Cel sang lur mostrez. Sachez en bon foy Trestouz les venkerez. “Marie regardez, pres De la croys esteaunt; De sa dolour pensez Come ele estut ploraunt. Pur amour, la priez Qe ele vous seit eydaunt. Si amer la volez, Ne seiez pas dotaunt. “Parlez a la flur, E a ly dites taunt: ‘De vous nasqui cely Qe soffry peyne graunt Seiez nostre socour, Pur soun precious sang; Deliverez nous de le Enymy Qe nous est deceyvant.’ “A cel seint sang ne puet Enymy venyr, Mes son poer fragrant Qe vous dotez issyr. Pres de vous ert esteant Pur vous tot dis geytir. Molt avera peyne grant Quaunt de ly poez fuyr. “Si toun cuer lavez Bien de cet precious sang, E pus estes entrez En la playe graunt, E la dame avez, De nyent serrez dotaunt. Tempté poez estre, Mes vous averez garaunt. “Seint Johan regardez, Qe est le amy Jesu. Molt est a ly privez, Apelé est soun dru. Cely fust mostré, Quant Jesu fust pendu, Qe sa douce mere A ly baylé fu. “Pensez de la dolour Qu’il out pur son amaunt. Priez la virgine Que ele vous seit aydaunt, A Jesu, nostre Creatour, Que est soun douz enfaunt, Qe en totes peryls nous seit Escu e garaunt.”    Amen.

¶ When I was in my youth And at my will, I eagerly pursued my desire Wholly for amusement. I was quite lethargic and slow Regarding any virtue, Nor did I think of the cost That would be exacted of me. All my heart was set Entirely on folly; Truly I was on slippery ice — Alas, for that day! When I was over-concerned With earthly honor, Day and night I set my mind On extremely foolish love. Indeed, I deeply desired To have true friendship, But I found none When I had tried it; When I looked closely, I saw only vanity. Often I said “wailaway” About what I desired. One day I went to be amused, Seeking my comfort; It happened by chance That I heard a song. To this I paid attention, And I stood listening — Indeed, good and pure Were the words of the song! The words of the song I will tell you, as I can; All those who go wishing To seek out true love, Listen to my song! I will instruct them About a friend, a pure lover, Good, beautiful, and true. “Flower of all goodness, And of purity as well, Little flower of all faithfulness And brightness, I tell you, Every sort of goodness May one discover in him. Flower of all mercy, Truly he's a most kind friend. “Every sort of sweet kindness Exists in this true lover; He pledges purer love Than any who lives. King and emperor Are obedient to him. He acquires very great honor Who has such a lover. “Jesus he is called, Of whom I tell you. He has shown us well That he's a faithful friend, Since he has fashioned us Wholly in his image. He has bought us dearly; For us he suffered death. “Since I've named for you Who is this true lover, Don’t delay at all — Go to him running! Put to the test whether What I sing to you be true. No love, in faith, Is worth a rag beside this one. “A maiden is the mother Of the one of whom I sing. Above all she’s the light After her dear child. Her son is her father, Husband, and true lover. Blessed be such a mother And her sweet child! “But now listen, You who desire love, If you wish to have The flower of all loves, It's most fitting that you be Steadfast in affection, And that your heart refrain From excessive worldly honor. “If you wish to love Jesus entirely, Throw off each love That pertains to folly, For whatever you think, It is certainly Most fitting that you have A clean heart and mind. “Look at the wound That your Creator suffered, And see the blood That issued out for your love. Don’t cease to pray By night and by day; Worship and cry Till you feel compassion. “If you’re able to taste This precious blood That sweet Jesus shed For you, Wash well your heart With true love. Pray to your friend: In him you’ll find aid. “When you’ve washed well Your heart in this blood, Go closer to him By bowing to the cross; Enter into the wound, Which is long and large. Hold fast there, Don’t issue out for anyone living. “The heart of your friend Seize and hold tight; Don’t fear any enemy As long as you dwell there. If you’re attacked, Show them this blood. Know with good faith You’ll vanquish them all. “Look at Mary, close To the cross standing; Think of her sorrow As she stands crying. In love, pray to her That she may help you. If you wish to love her, Be without fear. “Talk to the flower, And speak to her like this: ‘From you was born that one Who endured great pain. Be our assistance, For his precious blood; Deliver us from the Enemy Who is deceiving us.’ “Toward that holy blood The Enemy’s not able to come, But he’ll do his very best To make you afraid to issue out. Nearby you he’s standing To cast you down forever. He’ll suffer great agony When you’re able to flee him. “If you wash your heart Well with this precious blood, And then you are entered Into the great wound, And you possess the lady, You’ll not fear anything. You may be tempted, But you’ll have a protector. “Look at Saint John, Who is Jesus’ friend. He is very close to him, He is called his beloved. It was explained to him, When Jesus was hanging, That his sweet mother Was entrusted to him. “Think of the sorrow That he felt for his love. Pray to the virgin That she may help you, With Jesus, our Creator, Her sweet child, Who in all dangers may be for us Shield and protector.”    Amen.

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