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.
