A thousand times,
O my sweet warrior,
in order to have peace
with your lovely eyes,
I have offered you my heart;
but it does
not please you
to gaze so low
with your lofty mind;
And if some other lady
has hopes of him,
she lives in weak
and fallacious hope;
mine — since I disdain
what does not please you
— mine he can never be as before.
Now if I drive him away,
and he does not find
in you any help in his sad exile,
nor can stay alone,
nor go where some other calls him,
his natural course of life might fail,
which would be a grave fault
in both of us,
and so much the more yours
as he loves you the more.
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