O Fortune,
like the moon
you are changeable,
ever waxing and waning;
hateful life
first oppresses and then soothes
as fancy takes it;
poverty and power
it melts them like ice.
Fate - monstrous and empty,
you whirling wheel,
you are malevolent, well-being is vain
and always fades to nothing,
shadowed and veiled
you plague me too;
now through the game
I bring my bare back to your villainy.
Fate is against me
in health and virtue,
driven on and weighted down
always enslaved.
So at this hour without delay
pluck the vibrating strings;
since Fate strikes down the strong man,
everyone weep with me!
I bemoan the wounds of Fortune
with weeping eyes,
for the gifts she made me
she perversely takes away.
It is written in truth,
that she has a fine head of hair,
but, when it comes to seizing an opportunity
she is bald.
It is written in truth,
that she has a fine head of hair,
but, when it comes to seizing an opportunity
she is bald.
On Fortune's throne
I used to sit raised up,
crowned with
the many-coloured flowers of prosperity;
though I may have flourished
happy and blessed,
now I fall from the peak
deprived of glory.
though I may have flourished
happy and blessed,
now I fall from the peak
deprived of glory.
The wheel of Fortune turns;
I go down, demeaned;
another is raised up;
far too high up
sits the king at the summit -
let him fear ruin!
for under the axis is written
Queen Hecuba.
sits the king at the summit -
let him fear ruin!
for under the axis is written
Queen Hecuba.
The merry face of spring
turns to the world,
sharp winter
now flees, vanquished;
bedecked in various colours
Flora reigns,
the harmony of the woods
praises her in song. Ah!
Ah!
Lying in Flora's lap
Phoebus once more
smiles, now covered
in many-coloured flowers,
Zephyr breathes nectar-
scented breezes.
Let us rush to compete
for love's prize.
Ah!
In harp-like tones sings
the sweet nightingale,
with many flowers
the joyous meadows are laughing,
a flock of birds rises up
through the pleasant forests,
the chorus of maidens
already promises a thousand joys.
Ah!
The sun warms everything,|pure and gentle,
once again it reveals to the world|April's face,
the soul of man|is urged towards love
and joys are governed|by the boy-god.
All this rebirth|in spring's festivity
and spring's power|bids us to rejoice;
it shows us paths we know well,|and in your springtime
it is true and right|to keep what is yours.
Love me faithfully!|See how I am faithful:
with all my heart|and with all my soul,
I am with you|even when I am far away.
Whosoever loves this much|turns on the wheel.
Behold, the pleasant
and longed-for
spring brings back joyfulness,
and longed-for
spring brings back joyfulness,
violet flowers fill the meadows,
the sun brightens everything,
sadness is now at an end!
Summer returns, now withdraw
the rigours of winter.
Ah!
Now melts
and disappears
ice, snow and the rest,
Now melts and disappears
ice, snow and the rest,
winter flees, and now spring sucks
at summer's breast
a wretched soul is he who|does not live or lust
who does not live or lust
under summer's rule.
Ah!
They glory
They glory and rejoice
in honeyed sweetness
They glory and rejoice
in honeyed sweetness
who strive to make use of
Cupid's prize;
at Venus' command let us glory and rejoice|in being Paris' equals.
at Venus' command let us glory and rejoice
in being Paris' equals.
Ah!
The noble woods are burgeoning
with flowers and leaves.
with �
with flowers and leaves.
Where is the lover
I knew?
Where is the lover
I knew?
Ah!
He has ridden off!
Eia!
Oh! Who will love me?
Ah!
The woods are burgeoning all over,
I am pining for my lover.|I am pining for my lover.
I am pining for my lover
I am
I am pining.
The woods are turning green
all over,
why is my lover away
so long?
Ah!
He has ridden off,
ridden off, ridden off
Oh woe, Oh woe,
who will love me?
Ah!
Shopkeeper, give me colour
to make my cheeks red,
so that I can make the young men
love me, against their will.
Look at me, young men!
Let me please you!
Look at me, young men!
Let me please you!
Good men, love
women worthy of love!
Love ennobles your spirit
and gives you honour.
Look at me, young men!
Let me please you!
Look at me, young men!
Let me please you!
Hail, world,
so rich in joys!
I will be obedient to you
because of the pleasures you afford.
Look at me, young men!
Let me please you!
Look at me, young men!
Let me please you!
Those who go round and round,|those who go round and round
are all maidens,|are all maidens
they want to do without a man|they want to do without a man
all summer, all summer, all summer
all summer long.
Ah! Sla!
Come, come, my love,
I long for you,
come, come, my love.
Sweet rose-red lips,
come and make me better,
sweet rose-red lips.
Those who go round and round,|those who go round and round
are all maidens,|are all maidens
they want to do without a man|they want to do without a man
all summer, all summer, all summer
all summer long.
Ah! Sla!
Were all the world mine
from the sea to the Rhine,
I would starve myself of it
so that the queen
of England
might lie
in my arms.
Hei!
Burning inside with violent anger,|bitterly I speak to my heart:
created from matter,|of the ashes of the elements,
I am like a leaf played with by the winds.
If it is the way of the wise man|to build foundations on stone,
the I am a fool, like a flowing stream,|which in its course never changes.
I am carried along like a ship without a steersman,
and in the paths of the air like a light,|hovering bird;
chains cannot hold me,
keys cannot imprison me,
I look for people like me
and join the wretches.
The heaviness of my heart seems like|a burden to me;
it is pleasant to joke and sweeter|than honeycomb;
whatever Venus commands
is a sweet duty,
she never dwells
in a lazy heart.
I travel the broad path as is the way of youth,
I give myself to vice, unmindful of virtue,
I am eager for the pleasures of the flesh
more than for salvation,
my soul is dead,
so I shall look after the flesh.
Once
I lived on lakes,
once
I looked beautiful
when I
was a
Swan.
Misery me!
Now black
and roasting fiercely!
The servant is turning me
on the spit;
I am burning fiercely
on the pyre:
the steward now
serves me up.
Misery me!
Now black
and roasting fiercely!
Now I lie on a plate,
and
cannot fly
anymore,
I see bared
teeth:
Misery me!
Now black
and roasting fiercely!
I
I,
I am the abbot, the abbot
I am the abbot of Cockaigne
and my assembly is one of drinkers,
and I wish to be in the order of Decius,
and whoever searches me out|at the tavern in the morning,
after Vespers he will leave naked,
and thus stripped of his clothes
and thus stripped of his clothes|he will call out:
Woe!
what have you done, vilest Fate?
Woe! Woe! Woe!
the joys of my life
you have taken all away!
Woe! Woe! Woe!
Haha!
When we are in the tavern,|we do not think how we will go to dust,
but we hurry to gamble,|which always makes us sweat.
What happens in the tavern,|where money is host,
you may well ask,|and hear what I say.
Some gamble, some drink,|some behave loosely.
But of those who gamble,|some are stripped bare,
some win their clothes here,|some are dressed in sacks.
Here no-one fears death, but they throw|the dice in the name of Bacchus.
First of all it is to the wine-merchant
the the libertines drink,
one for the prisoners,|three for the living,
four for all Christians,|five for the faithful dead,
six for the loose sisters,
seven for the footpads in the wood,
Eight for the errant brethren,
nine for the dispersed monks,
ten for the seamen,|eleven for the squabblers,
twelve for the penitent,|thirteen for the wayfarers.
To the Pope as to the king
they all drink without restraint.
The mistress drinks, the master drinks,|the soldier drinks, the priest drinks,
the man drinks, the woman drinks,|the servant drinks with the maid,
the swift man drinks, the lazy man drinks,|the white man drinks, the black man drinks,
the settled man drinks, the wanderer drinks,|the stupid man drinks, the wise man drinks,
The poor man drinks, the sick man drinks,|the exile drinks, and the stranger,
the boy drinks, the old man drinks,|the bishop drinks, and the deacon,
the sister drinks, the brother drinks,|the old lady drinks, the mother drinks,
this man drinks, that man drinks|a hundred drink, a thousand drink.,
Six hundred pennies would hardly
suffice, if everyone
drinks immoderately and immeasurably.
However much they cheerfully drink
we are the ones whom everyone scolds,
and thus we are destitute.
May those who slander us be cursed
and may their names not be written|in the book of the righteous.
Io, io, io...!
Io!
Cupid flies everywhere
seized by desire.
Young men and women
are rightly coupled.
The girl without a lover
misses out on all pleasures,
she keeps the dark night
hidden
in the depth of her heart;
it is a most bitter fate.
Day, night and everything
is against me,
the chattering of maidens
makes me weep,
and often sigh,
and, most of all,
scares me.
O friends, you are making fun of me,
you do not know what you are saying,
spare me, sorrowful as I am,
great is
my grief,
advise me at least,
by your
honour.
Your beautiful face,
makes me weep a thousand times,
your heart is of ice.
As a cure,
I would be revived
by a kiss.
A girl stood
in a red tunic;
if anyone touched it,
the tunic rustled.
Eia!
Eia! Eia!
Eia!
A girl stood
like a little rose:
her face was radiant
and her mouth in bloom.
Eia!
Eia! Eia!
Eia!
In my heart
there are many sighs
for your beauty, which wound me sorely.
Ah!
Mandaliet, Mandaliet|my lover does not come.
my lover does not come.|My lover does not come.
does not come, does not come, does not come, �
Your eyes shine
like the rays of the sun,
like the flashing of lightening|which brightens the darkness.
Ah!
Mandaliet, Mandaliet|my lover does not come.
my lover does not come.|My lover does not come.
does not come, does not come, does not come, �
May God grant, may the gods grant
what I have in mind:
that I may loose the chains of her virginity.
Ah!
Mandaliet, Mandaliet|my lover does not come.
my lover does not come.|My lover does not come.
does not come, does not come, does not come, �
If a boy with a girl tarries in a little room,
happy is their coupling.
If a boy with a girl tarries in a little room,
happy is their coupling.
Love rises up,
and between them prudery is driven away,
an ineffable game begins in their limbs,|arms and lips.
If a boy with a girl tarries in a little room,
happy is their coupling.
Come, come, O come|Come, come, O come
Do not let me do not let me die!|Do not let me do not let me die!
Do not let me do not let me die!
hyrca, hyrce, hyrca, hyrce|nazaza, trillirivos!
Beautiful is your face, nazaza!|the gleam of your eye, nazaza!
your braided hair, nazaza!|what a glorious creature, nazaza!
redder than the rose, nazaza!|whiter than the lily, nazaza!
lovelier than all others, nazaza!|I shall always
glory in you! Nazaza!|Nazaza! Nazaza!
In the wavering balance
of my feelings
set against
each other
lascivious
love
and modesty.
But I choose
what I see,
and submit my
neck to the yoke;
I yield.
to the sweet
sweet yoke
This is the joyful time, O maidens,
rejoice with them, young men!
Oh! Oh! Oh! I am bursting out all over!
I am burning all over with first love!
New, new love is what I am dying of
I am heartened by my promise,
I am downcast by my refusal
Oh! Oh! Oh! I am bursting out all over!
I am burning all over with first love!
New, new love is what I am dying of!
In the winter man is patient,
the breath of spring makes him lust.
Oh! Oh! Oh! I am bursting out all over!
I am burning all over with first love!
New, new love is what I am dying of!
My virginity makes me frisky,
my simplicity holds me back.
Oh! Oh! Oh! I am bursting out all over!
I am burning all over with first love!
New, new love is what I am dying of!
Come, my mistress, with joy,
come, come, my pretty, I am dying!
Oh! Oh! Oh! I am bursting out all over!
I am burning all over with first love!
New, new love is what I am dying of!
Sweetest one!
Ah!
I give myself
to you totally!
Hail, most beautiful one,
precious jewel,
Hail, pride among virgins,
glorious virgin,
Hail. light of the world,
Hail, rose of the world,
Blanchefleur and Helen,
noble Venus!
Generous Venus!
O Fortune,
like the moon
you are changeable,
ever waxing and waning;
hateful life
first oppresses and then soothes
as fancy takes it;
poverty and power
it melts them like ice.
Fate - monstrous and empty,
you whirling wheel,
you are malevolent, well-being is in vain
and always fades to nothing,
shadowed and veiled
you plague me too;
now through the game
I bring my bare back to your villainy.
Fate is against me
in health and virtue,
driven on
and weighted down, always enslaved.
So at this hour without delay
pluck the vibrating strings;
since Fate strikes down the strong man,
everybody weep with me!