So muchel I thenke upon thee...
Polish: Nie mogłem się powstrzymać...
English: Yet not all but I understand the sense.
Englissh:
When the nightegale singes, The wodes waxen grene: Lef and grass and blosme pringes. In Averil, I wene; (And)love is to min herte gon With one spere so kene: Night and day my blod it drinkes; Min herte deth me tene. Ich have loved all this year That I may live namore; Ich have siked mony sik, Lemmon, for thin ore. Me nis love never the ner, And that me reweth sore. Swete lemmon, thench on me: Ich have loved thee yore. Swete lemmon, I preye thee Of love one speche. Whil I live in world so wide Other nulle I seche. With thy love, my swete leof, My bliss thou mightest eche: A swete cos of thy mouth Mighte be my leche. Swete lemmon, I preye thee Of a love-bene; If thou me lovest, as men says, Lemmon as I wene. And if it thy wille be, Thou loke that it be sene. So muchel I thenke upon thee That all I waxe grene.
English: Yet not all but I understand the sense.
Englissh:
When the nightegale singes, The wodes waxen grene: Lef and grass and blosme pringes. In Averil, I wene; (And)love is to min herte gon With one spere so kene: Night and day my blod it drinkes; Min herte deth me tene. Ich have loved all this year That I may live namore; Ich have siked mony sik, Lemmon, for thin ore. Me nis love never the ner, And that me reweth sore. Swete lemmon, thench on me: Ich have loved thee yore. Swete lemmon, I preye thee Of love one speche. Whil I live in world so wide Other nulle I seche. With thy love, my swete leof, My bliss thou mightest eche: A swete cos of thy mouth Mighte be my leche. Swete lemmon, I preye thee Of a love-bene; If thou me lovest, as men says, Lemmon as I wene. And if it thy wille be, Thou loke that it be sene. So muchel I thenke upon thee That all I waxe grene.
1 komentarz:
:) Miri it is while summer ilast
With fugheles son
Oc nu neheth windes blast
And weder strong
Ei, ei! What this night is long
And ich with wel michel wrong
Soregh and murn and fast
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