Classic Poem

With the season which renews
The world, and makes the meadows green again,
I wish to begin a new song
About a love which I desire;
But she is so distant from me
That I cannot reach her,
Nor does she take pleasure in my words.

Nothing can ever comfort me;
Rather, let me die
When they have separated me from my lady —
Slanderers, God hate them!
Alas! I will have desired her so much,
That for her I lament, weep, and sigh,
And I act as if I were out of my mind.

She whom you hear me sing about
Is more beautiful than I can say:
She has a fresh color and a lovely look,
And has an unobscured radiance;
Yes, and she is not all made up,
And one cannot say a bad thing about her,
So fine and perfect is she.

And she should prize herself above each,
In my opinion, for her words
Of truth, eloquence, and cultivation,
For she never wished to betray her lover;
And I was a fool that time
Because I believed what I heard about her,
And did something that angered her.

I have never wanted to complain about her,
For if she wishes, she can still gladden me,
And indeed she has the power to give
Something that can enrich me;
I cannot last very long,
For I am not eating and am losing sleep
Because she is not nearer to me.

Love is sweet at first sight,
And bitter at departing;
For one day it can make you cry,
And another it can make you play and dance;
And I know about educated love:
Just when I thought I was best serving her,
That's when she changed toward me.

Messenger, go, and may God keep you;
Get through to my lady,
For I cannot last long
Here, nor be healed from there,
If I cannot kiss and hold her
Naked next to me
In a room with curtains.