El trovero

The troubadour who comes to you
To see you leaning out on the balcony,
Today he offers you his song again
Waiting for you to say yes.
I want to see those eyes woman
Open soon, my love, your window,
So you won't say tomorrow
That you heard, my good, without wanting to.
 
Love, love, love,
Don't make me suffer any more,
I'd rather die here
If you don't let me see you.
You don't understand me ungrateful
That in mad ravings,
Your love was mine
And you make me suffer.
 
I wish I could express
In my song the immense passion
That you kindled in my heart
And that in vain I try to hide.
If you would accept, woman, the love
That with such mad eagerness I covet,
I will shelter you on the throne
That in my breast will form the pain.