V
In den tiden van den jare
In den tiden van den jare
dat die dage werden lanc
ende dat weder weder clare,
so ernouwen openbare
merelare heren sanc,
die ons brengen lieve mare,
Gode mach her’s weten danc
dé hevet rechte minne
sonder rouwe ende ane wanc.
Ich bin blide dore here ere
die mich hevet dat gedaen
dat ich van den rouwen kere,
dé mich wilen irde sere.
dat is mich nu also ergaen:
ich bin rike ende grote here,
sint ich moeste al ombevaen
die mich gaf rechte minne
sonder wiic ende ane waen.
Die mich drombe willen niden
dat mich lieves iet geschiet,
dat mach ich vele sachte liden
noch mine blitscap niewet miden,
ende ne wille drombe niet
na gevolgen den onbliden.
sint dat sie mich gerne siet
die mich dore rechte minne
lange pine dougen liet.
V
At the season of the year
At the season of the year
when the days grow bright and long
and the skies once more turn clear
when anew we start to hear
blackbirds chirp their piping song
with glad tidings for our ear,
may to God all praise belong
from all hearts that love revere
free from sorrow, glad and strong.
I ascribe my joyous fate
to the one who’s brought me out
of my sorrow-laden state,
lifting off its crushing weight.
Such a change has come about:
a great lord I now equate,
all restrictions I can flout
since pure love she did donate,
free of refuge and of doubt.
Those who envy show or hate
for this wonder safely stowed,
I can calmy contemplate
for my joy they can’t deflate,
or cause me to take the road
joyless feet negotiate.
Since her favour she’s bestowed
she who through true love of late
on me anguish did unload.
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