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,