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  • Oonagh

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Courtly love

Sing me your song,
your pure heart's song,
let your deep, sweet sorrow be heard.
 
Tell me of your grief,
And let fall your soul's veil
to the round dance, Beloved, may your heart beat for me.
 
Sing of courtly love, sing,
let your melody ring out.
Until the sun wakes early in the morning
you must bring me joy.
 
Come, Minne, come
The blazing torches have died away.
Until God wakes at the end of the night,
I find your voice1 welcome.
 
Give me your news2,
take away all my worries,
tell me your wonderful tale.
 
Give me your play
what is the aim of your love,
yearning weighs so heavily in my breast
 
Sing me your song,
your pure heart's song,
let your deep, sweet sorrow be heard.
 
  • 1. literally: sound
  • 2. literally: "word"
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Minne

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