Lyrics (13th century English)
Translation
When the nightegale singes,
When the nightingale sings,
The wodes waxen grene:
And the woods wax green:
Lef and grass and blosme springes
I expect, the leaves and the blades of grass,
In Averil, I wene;
And blossoms to spring up, in April;
(And) love is to min herte gon
And so love has shot through my heart
With one spere so kene:
With a spear so honed
Night and day my blod it drinkes;
That night and day it drinks my blood
Min herte deth me tene.
And my heart grieves.
Ich have loved all this year
All this year I have loved
That I may love namore;
The one I can love no more;
Ich have siked mony sik,
I have sighed so many sighs,
Lemmon, for thin ore.
Sweetheart, for your favour.
Me nis love never the ner,
Love will never be any closer to me,
And that me reweth sore.
And I rue that intensely.
Swete lemmon, thench on me:
Sweetheart, think about me:
Ich have loved thee yore.
I have loved you such a long time.
Swete lemmon, I preye thee
Dear sweetheart, I beg you,
Of love one speche.
For one word of love.
Whil I live in world so wide
As long as I live I will not seek
Other nulle I seche.
Another throughout the entire world.
With thy love, my swete leof,
With your affection, my sweet love,
My bliss thou mightest eche:
You could bring me joy:
A swete cos of thy mouth
A sweet kiss from you lips
Mighte be my leche.
Could cure me completely
Swete lemmon, I preye thee
Sweetheart, I beg you,