He who makes songs without feeling Spoils both his words and his music. - Guillaume de Machaut

Qui de sentement ne fait,
Son dit et son chant contrefait.

Et musique est une science
Qui veut qu'on rie et chante et dance.
Cure n'a de merencolie,
Ne d'homme qui merencolie
A chose qui ne puet valoir,
Eins met tels gens en nonchaloir.
Partout ou elle est joie y porte;
Les desconfortez reconforte,
Et nes seulement de l'oir
Fait elle les gens resjoir.

And since my malady
Will not be
Cured at all
Without you, sweet enemy.
Who are glad
At my torment.
With folded hands I pray
To your heart, since it forgets me.
That it should kill me quickly.
For I languish too long.
Sweet pretty lady.
For God's sake do not think
That any one has authority
Over me but you alone.