Ce que ma bouche n’ose dire
ne ma plume ne soit escrire
vueillez le mal. dame, panser,
car, sur ma foy, par trop amer
ma vie va fort a l’empire.

En ce monde rien ne desire,
fors que facez le grief martire
qu’a mon las cueur fault endurer.

Ce que ma bouche n’ose dire
ne ma plume ne soit escrire
vueillez le mal, dam,e panser,

Je suis des malheureux le pire,
helas, qu’a vous, mon tout seul mire,
n’oserroye mon mal compter,
craignant que plaindre et lamenter
ne le face devenir pire.

Ce que ma bouche n’ose dire
ne ma plume ne soit escrire
vueillez le mal, dame, panser,
car, sur ma foy, par trop amer
ma vie va fort a l’empire.

What my mouth does not dare to say
or my pen may not write
please consider, lady, the hurt,
because, by my faith, by loving too much
my life is fast growing worse.

In this world I wish for nothing
but that you dress the deep wounds,
which my poor heart must endure.

What my mouth does not dare to say
or my pen may not write
please consider, lady, the hurt.

I am of the unhappy the worst,
alas, so that you, my sole doctor,
will not be dare to count my pains,
and I fear that complaining and lamenting
will not make it worse.

What my mouth does not dare to say
or my pen may not write
please consider, lady, the hurt,
because, by my faith, by loving too much
my life is fast growing worse.