Wish me ill,
I'd have her form that's laced
So cunningly,
Without blemish, for her love
Breaks not nor turns aside.
I of Miele'de'ben demand
Her straight fresh body,
She is so supple and young
Her robes can but do her wrong.
Her white teeth, of the Lady Faidita
I ask, and the fine courtesy
She hath to welcome one.
And such replies she lavishes
Within her nest,
Of Bela Mirals, the rest:
Tall stature and gaiety,
To make these avail
She knoweth well, betide
No change nor turning aside.
Ah, Bela Senher, Maent, at last
I ask naught from you,
Save that I have such hunger for
This phantom
As I've for you, such flame-lap.
And yet I'd rather
Ask of you than hold another,
Mayhap, right close and kissed.
Ah, lady, why have you cast
Me out, knowing you hold me so fast?
Besides these strophes there is also a four-line coda to his jongleur, Papiol, as follows:
Papiol, my lodestone, go, through all the courts sing this canzon, how love fareth ill of late; is fallen from his high estate.
Second, as to the possibility of a political intrigue behind the apparent love poem we have no evidence save that offered by my own observation of the geography of Perigord
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