Bernart de Ventadorn: Can vei la lauzeta

Can vei la lauzeta mover
De joi sas alas contra·l rai,
Que s'oblid'e·s laissa chazer
Per la doussor c'al cor li vai,
Ai, tan grans enveya m'en ve
De cui qu'eu veya jauzïon.

Translation from Occitane to English:
When I see the lark beat his wings for joy against the sun's ray,
until he forgets to fly and plummets down,
for the sheer delight which goes to his heart,
alas, great envy comes to me of those whom I see filled with happiness,
and I marvel that my heart does not instantly melt from desire.  

Alas, I thought I knew so much about love,
and really I know so little,
for I cannot keep myself from loving her from whom I shall have no favor.
She has stolen from me my heart,
myself, herself, and all the world.

When she took herself from me,
she left me nothing but desire and a longing heart.  
Never have I been in control of myself or even belonged to myself
from the hour that she let me gaze into her eyes-
that mirror that pleases me so greatly.

Mirror, since I saw myself reflected in you,
deep sighs have been killing me.
I have lost myself,
just as handsome Narcissus lost himself in the fountain.  

I despair of women, no more will I trust them,
and just as I used to defend them, now I shall denounce them.
Since I see that none aids me against her who destroys and confounds me,
I fear and distrust them all for I know well they are all alike.  

In this my lady certainly shows herself to be a woman,
and for it I reproach her,
for she wants not that which one ought to want,
and what is forbidden, she does.
I have fallen out of favor and have behaved like the fool on the bridge;
and I don't know why it happened
except because I tried to climb too high.

Mercy is lost, in truth, though I never received it,
for she who should possess it most has none,
so where shall I seek it?
Ah, one who sees her would scarcely guess
that she just leaves this passionate wretch
(who will have no good without her)
to die, and gives no aid.  

Since with my lady neither prayers nor mercy nor my rights avail me,
and since she is not pleased that I love her,
I will never speak of it to her again.
Thus I part from her, and leave;
she has killed me, and by death I respond,
since she does not retain me,
I depart, wretched, into exile, I don't know where.  

Tristan, you will have nothing from me,
for I depart, wretched, I don't know where.
I quit and leave off singing and withdraw from joy and love.